The Fjords of Light
by sousatayue
Summary: All-out war against the Daleks for a critical star system and a close encounter in a seemingly haunted castle leave behind dangerous ramifications for the Doctor at multiple points in the Time Lord's history...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who._

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 AD_

STAFFORD

Inspector Larry Wilder frowned, wondering why something so simple as finding a few Danish tourists could be so difficult. The call had come in a few hours earlier, saying that a family of three vacationing from Copenhagen had missed their flight, and that the Danish Embassy had called Scotland Yard to assist in the search.

Except those officers never came back.

The Staffordshire police division had soon been ordered by London to find both the tourists and the missing officials from Scotland Yard. Wilder's superior hadn't understood the problem with taking the case.

The problem? The last place the Danes had been seen was the local "haunted" castle, which was notorious for people going missing on a random basis. Even some officers had disappeared over the past several years.

Chief Inspector Archer Greenlee had overruled all of his underlings' protests and decided to have them investigate anyway.

"The five of us will check things out inside," Greenlee announced shortly after all officers present exited their vehicles. He gestured to Wilder and two others. "You three stay out here." His eyes narrowed. "Don't cause trouble."

Wilder glanced at the others, noticing one was giving a single-fingered salute behind the backs of the departing officers. He dropped it as soon as he noticed Wilder watching, ashamed.

"Watch it, son," the Inspector said sternly. "You may be new, but you need to be better than that."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Wilder folded his arms, sighing. "This bloody sucks."

"No kidding," a fellow Inspector, Jenkins, muttered. "First, we lose some Danes, and now Scotland Yard can't do their own job properly?"

"Better not be those things with the plungers again," a Constable, Miller, complained. "You remember what happened back in '09?"

Wilder nodded, recalling the planets in the sky, and the horrors afterward. "How can anyone forget?"

"Now's not the time to bring that up, Miller," Jenkins chastised. "Our superiors are working on this; they'll be back."

Wilder sneered. "Yeah. While we're left on guard duty. _Again._ "

Miller raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight: you two are Inspectors, and Greenlee hasn't let either of you in on any of the action yet?"

"Not since he took over this past November," Jenkins admitted. "And it's not just us; it's _all_ the officers with a different skin colour than him."

"So, he's a racist arse."

"I was trying to be polite." Jenkins frowned. "But, yes."

Miller folded his arms. "Man, just wait until we get in on the action! I'd love to see the look on his face when we show him that we're not incompetent!"

Jenkins and Wilder nodded approvingly.

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed after that, but the weather outside was making himself and the others painfully aware of the cold winters in northern England.

"Have they found anything yet?" Jenkins asked.

Wilder snorted, checking his wristwatch. "It's been an hour."

"In case you lot haven't noticed this place is too damn _big_ to get anything done in less than an hour!" Miller retorted, gesturing to the castle.

Wilder folded his arms. _Valid point._ "We'll give them another forty minutes. If they're not back out by then, we'll radio."

Just under twenty minutes had gone by before Wilder's radio buzzed to life. _"This is Greenlee!"_ the voice of their superior hollered. _"Does anybody copy? I need backup! There are these things, these—"_

The last thing the three heard before the transmission was reduced to static was Archer Greenlee's bloodcurdling scream.

Jenkins activated her radio. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Do you copy?"

 _Static._

She tried again. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Please respond!"

 _Static._

Miller sighed. "It's no use, Jenkins. We ain't getting _shit._ "

Wilder loaded a clip into his pistol. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get in there."

The others nodded, following Wilder's actions. A couple of minutes later, they entered the castle, torches lighting.

"This place gives me the creeps," Miller remarked, the light reflecting off his dark skin. He pointed his torch to the right. "Isn't that where Queen Elizabeth I did her beheadings?"

"Probably," Wilder responded, gulping. "I'd rather not find out, thank you very much."

Jenkins shook her head, black curls bouncing in all directions. "Come on, you two."

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed as they ventured deeper into the castle. He kept getting a strange vibe, one that kept screaming for them to _get the hell out._

But they couldn't. They had a job to do.

Jenkins's radio crackled, startling them. _"Hello? Is anyone there?"_

The woman sighed exasperatedly, activating it. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Are you alright, sir?"

" _Of course, I'm fine,"_ the man reassured them, his voice oddly cheerful. _"Is there anyone with you?"_

"Yes, sir," Jenkins confirmed. "Wilder and Miller are here as well. Where are you?"

" _Are you in the castle?"_

Jenkins rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir, we're in the castle. Where the hell are you?"

" _Just keep going."_

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, exchanging confused looks with the rest of the group. "Can you repeat, sir?"

" _Just keep going."_

Miller frowned. "Okay," he said slowly, glancing at them. "Didn't that seem _odd_ to you?"

"Yeah," Jenkins responded. "He's _never_ that cheerful, _especially_ when he's around officers like _us._ " The Inspector's lip curled in distaste at that last part.

"Racist bastard or not, he's still our superior," Wilder reminded them sternly. "We should at least see if he's okay."

Jenkins sighed. "Damn it, Wilder. If this shit goes south, I'm gonna haunt your ass."

"Fine by me."

Several minutes passed by, the exit vibe screaming louder and louder throughout Wilder's entire being. One quick glance at his squadmates told him that they had felt it, too.

They paused. Jenkins folded her arms. "Anyone get the feeling we're being watched?"

Miller nodded. They looked to their right, seeing a mirror. All three black officers saw their reflection, as well as some rather angry-looking statues behind them, staring accusingly at the mirror.

"Well, if _that's_ not a sign to bugger off, I don't know what is," Miller remarked, voice wavering.

"Maybe the Danes got chicken and bailed?" Wilder suggested hopefully.

"Honestly…" Miller was uncertain at this point. "Is this some sort of prank or something?"

"Hell if I know." Wilder sighed. "Let's find the others and get the heck out of here."

"Second," Miller and Jenkins said in unison.

The deeper they went, the worse the feeling became. At first, Wilder thought it was fear. Now, he realised it was dread.

"There's something up ahead," Miller announced, breaking Wilder out of his brooding. The three shone their torches forward, landing on a human-like figure on the ground.

"That looks like a body," Wilder breathed.

"No shit, Sherlock," Jenkins retorted. "Let's check it out."

They walked slowly towards it, stopping only about a metre or so away.

"Oh my God," Jenkins whispered, recoiling.

Wilder gagged.

Miller vomited to their left.

There was definitely a corpse in front of them, all right. The spinal cord looked to have been ripped clean out of the poor man's body, parts of the brain exposed. To the right of the body, a Chief Inspector's cap lay uselessly, covered in blood. A police radio crackled, the identifying number on his vest belonging to—

"Greenlee," Wilder breathed.

Jenkins's lip curled in disgust. "Looks like he's been dead for a few hours." Her eyes narrowed. "But then…who contacted us?"

 _Oh shit…oh shit, we're really fucked now._ It was Wilder's turn to vomit. When he finished, he looked at the others, eyes wide with terror as he wiped his mouth. "We need to get out of here. Now!"

"What about everyone else?" Miller asked.

"To hell with them!" Wilder snapped. "This is not just a major incident now; it's a death trap! Whatever's here, it's after _us_. We need backup before we can do anything else!"

The others nodded wordlessly. They turned around, running as fast as they could away from their superior's corpse.

"Which way to the exit?" Jenkins asked, panic clear in her voice now.

Miller pointed to a hallway on their left. "This way! Hurry!"

They kept running. Two corridors later, their torches went out.

"Shit," Jenkins muttered.

Wilder was far less calm. "WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW?"

They stopped, hyperventilating as they tried to get the torches back on, failing each time.

"Well, this isn't good," Miller said angrily. "Anyone got a lighter?"

Wilder dug through his pocket, finding his own. "Got it." He lit the flame, grabbing a wooden rod from the wall. "This should work." He turned, seeing a scared expression on Jenkins's face, a shaking hand pointing at something behind them. Wilder blinked, and, suddenly, inexplicably, Jenkins was gone.

"HOLY SHIT!" Miller screamed, panicking.

"Laura?" Wilder hollered. "LAURA!"

"Where is she?!" Miller asked, terror clear in his voice. He looked in the direction Jenkins had just disappeared from. "Uh…Inspector?" He tapped Wilder on the shoulder. "Larry, there's something over there." He turned. "And there's something in front of you, too."

Wilder looked about wildly, just in time to see Miller disappear before his eyes. His heart leapt to his throat. "BRUCE? LAURA?" He turned around, seeing a wicked-looking statue in front of him. He backed up, terrified.

A cold hand seized his shoulder, and suddenly, everything within the corridor was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

* * *

 _EARTH, 1973 CE_

LONDON

The two exited the TARDIS, breathing in the city air as the ship's doors closed shut behind them. London was a welcome sight. No Daleks, no Cybermen, just—humans. Humans, the Doctor noted, along with random, everyday occurrences and a concert that Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart invited the TARDIS crew to attend in just under an hour. The Doctor was excited.

His companion…

"What's so great about Beethoven?" Jo complained. The Doctor shrugged. "He's one of the best composers of the Classical and Romantic eras," he explained. "His pieces are quite remarkable, Miss Grant. You don't know what you're missing."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jo. It's not that much longer now."

Following some tube stops along the London Underground, the crew arrived at the concert hall, seeing Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Captain Mike Yates and Sergeant John Benton waiting in the lobby. The Doctor waved, catching the soldiers' attention.

"Ah, Doctor, good," Lethbridge-Stewart said approvingly. "Hello, Miss Grant. Nice to see you again."

The Doctor shook his hand. "Brigadier," he greeted. "Thank you for inviting us."

"It's no problem at all," the Brigadier reassured him. "Shall we take our seats?"

They entered the auditorium, sitting at the area designated on the Brigadier's tickets. Around five to ten minutes later, the concert began.

The curtains rolled back, revealing the musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra. The conductor raised his hands, baton in his right, looked at the ensemble, and waved the baton to initiate the preparatory beat.

Thus marked the beginning of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

The Doctor sat in the third row from the front, smiling as the music twisted and turned in its ethereal grandeur. When the starting movement concluded, the Time Lord stood, clapping enthusiastically, Jo having to pull him back into his seat so that the other works of the performance could be presented.

The Doctor didn't mind. He really liked Beethoven's works (although he couldn't quite put his finger on why they struck such a strong chord with him).

The performance concluded about an hour later, the Doctor's group being among the last of the patrons to exit.

"Well, what did you think?" the Doctor asked eagerly.

"I think it sounded a bit better than your flute playing skills," Jo teased.

The Doctor looked at the laboratory assistant, miffed. "Really, Jo, these are professionals. I used to do it for a hobby."

Yates shrugged. "It did sound better in person than on a recording."

At this, the Doctor beamed. "Yes, it did!"

Jo frowned. "I don't get why he'd name a piece after an emotion. 'Ode to Joy'? How can there be a serenade to a feeling?"

"Music is a complicated thing, Jo," the Doctor said, trying to explain. "Remember how I played the flute?"

"Yeah."

"And you were terrible at it," Lethbridge-Stewart added.

"I'm trying to make a point here," the Time Lord muttered, turning back to the woman. "Well, you see, Jo, each piece that I have learned is based on a composer's interpretation of a given concept, such as an emotion or feeling," the Doctor summarised. "It isn't always named, but it's still beautiful. And Beethoven…well, to be honest, I have no idea why he chose to name that particular piece the way he did."

Benton piped up. "Well, you've got a time machine, don't you, Doctor? Why not just ask him?"

 _Now there's an interesting prospect._ The Time Lord beamed. "I hadn't thought about that. What a splendid idea! We'll go tomorrow morning!"

"I personally do not mind one way or the other," the Brigadier muttered. "Just so long as you let me get some sleep first."

It was ultimately decided that the TARDIS crew would crash at UNIT HQ for the night. The Doctor woke up later in the morning, feeling somewhat refreshed. He stretched, making coffee in UNIT's break room. "Better be a strong one," he muttered to himself. "I've got to be wide awake if I'm to see Beethoven."

"Mm, that smells good."

The Doctor turned, noting briefly that the beverage had been brewing for a few minutes. He smiled, seeing the Brigadier. "Lethbridge-Stewart!" he greeted. "Care for a cup?"

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," the Brigadier conceded, rubbing his temples. "Ugh…this strange dream kept me up all night."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Really? What kind of dream was it?"

"Not the pleasant kind."

"What was it about?" the Doctor asked, curious.

Lethbridge-Stewart shrugged. "I don't remember much; just a beautiful planet and so much sadness. Oh, and there was a rather strange woman." His face became serious. "Don't tell Benton; he'd never let me live it down."

The Doctor let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, believe me, Brigadier, my lips are sealed." He poured the coffee. "Are you and Benton coming with us?"

"Benton already said yes. And as an avid listener of Beethoven myself, I wouldn't miss this for the world," the Brigadier told him. "Yates says he's interested as well."

"Splendid!" The Doctor took a sip, shuddering in distaste. The Brigadier held his mug in a mock toast. "That's office coffee for you, Doctor. You'll never know what you'll end up with."

"Well, never mind that," the Doctor retorted. "Sugar?"

The Brigadier pointed to a cylindrical container to the Doctor's left. The Time Lord mixed a few spoonfuls in, approving of the new addition after taking a sip. "That's a lot better." He glanced around. "Are the others up yet?"

"I saw Miss Grant about twenty minutes ago," the Brigadier said. "I think Benton and Yates decided to sleep in."

"I'll wake them after I finish consuming this beverage." The Doctor exited the break room, finding that Jo had already decided to wake Yates for him.

Or, at least try to.

 _"Nggh…"_ The Captain batted her arm away. "Five more minutes." He laid back down on the sofa.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Mike, get up. It's almost nine thirty."

"Then I'll— _yawn_ —I'll wake up at nine thirty-five."

"And then you'll keep procrastinating about it so that we don't get anywhere," Jo retorted.

"Let me sleep."

Lethbridge-Stewart folded his arms. "Oh, for God's sake!" He walked over to the futon, tapping loudly on a nearby table after seeing that Benton was also still asleep. "Up and at 'em! That's an order!"

Both soldiers sat up abruptly, gazing bleary-eyed at the Brigadier. "All right," Yates muttered. "I'm awake."

"Splendid," the Doctor said, noticing Benton entering the room. "Okay, good, that's everybody. Shall we?"

The Doctor fished through his pockets, trying to find the TARDIS key. What he pulled out instead was completely different. The Time Lord stared at the object curiously, perplexed. Crystals waved through the device, glowing with amber-coloured light when the button was pressed for a brief second, interlaced with the metal protecting them. The shape was odd, warped—somehow reminding him of spoons, yet the artisanship was very beautiful. It was around the same size as his sonic screwdriver, with maybe only a few centimetres difference in length.

Then there was this feeling associated with it…

Sadness. It felt… _sad,_ somehow, holding the device, bordering along the lines of melancholy. The Doctor couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt tears start to surface not long after looking at it. But why? He didn't recall having this thing in his coat before; certainly not within the past several hours. No…there was something more to it that he didn't understand.

 _What are you?_

"Doctor?"

The Doctor straightened, wiping his eyes in order not to show his moment of weakness to the others. "Yes? Oh, right. TARDIS key." He put the device in one hand, fishing through his pockets with the other. "Ah, let's see…There you are!" He held up the TARDIS key, proceeding to unlock the ship. The five of them entered, doors closing shut behind them.

"Doctor?" Jo asked after a moment. "That thing in your hand…what is it, exactly?"

The Doctor looked down, having momentarily forgotten about the device. "I don't have any idea, Jo," he admitted. "This was in my coat, and it wasn't there yesterday."

"Maybe you just forgot about it," Yates suggested.

"Perhaps." But the Time Lord was not convinced. He feigned a smile. "Never mind that; let's find Beethoven first, shall we?" He pulled the lever, starting the TARDIS on its latest journey. Even as they travelled through the Time Vortex, however, the Doctor couldn't stop looking at the strange device, that feeling of inexplicable sadness returning.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who._

* * *

EARLIER… (Relatively Speaking)

 _EARTH, 2019 AD_

SHEFFIELD

"Hello! Pizza delivery for Number Thirty-Four!"

Yasmin Khan beamed, bouncing up from her sofa, cash in hand following the knock on the door. She opened it, revealing a freckly teenager holding a pizza bag in his hands.

"Hello, miss," he greeted her. "Let's see here…" He checked the receipt. "Three large pizzas—one pepperoni, one cheese, and—" He squinted. "One made with all the peppers in the kitchen, including the hot ones."

Yaz pulled a face. "Yeah; my friend's got a hell of a spice tolerance."

"I'll say." The delivery boy glanced back up. "Twenty-six fifty."

Yaz gave him thirty quid, telling him to keep the change as she took the pizzas from him. She went back inside, grinning. "Ryan, Doctor, food's here!"

The Doctor darted into the common area, beaming. "Awesome! I haven't had the spicy stuff in a while!"

"Save some for the rest of us, will you?" Ryan muttered, walking in.

Yaz frowned. "Is Graham coming?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nah; he's working overtime. Doesn't get off 'til one in the morning."

"That's unfortunate," the Doctor said sympathetically. "I do hope he'll be alright."

"Overtime isn't the end of the world, you know," Yaz pointed out, setting the pizzas down on the kitchen table. Ryan reached into his bag, revealing a small box. Yaz's eyes widened as he put it between them. "Cards Against Humanity?"

"Yep," Ryan confirmed. "Is your family going to be home soon?"

"They're on vacation until the twenty-fifth," Yaz reassured him. "We've got the place to ourselves until then."

The Doctor looked at her curiously, holding up the box. "It's just a card game, isn't it? What's the big deal?"

Ryan's eyes widened. "You've never played?"

The Doctor shook her head.

Yaz locked eyes with Ryan, both young adults smirking. The Doctor, meanwhile, stared back at them, confused. "What?"

Yaz grinned. "You're in for a treat, Doctor."

They set up at the table. The Doctor sat down, eyeing it curiously. "Alrighty, then. How does this work?"

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER…

"I'm going to get tea," the Doctor announced, slightly red in the face. "Anyone else want some?"

Ryan nodded. "I'll take a cup, thanks."

"Yaz?"

"Maybe later," she said. She glanced at Ryan, whispering as soon as the Doctor was out of the general vicinity. "I think we made her uncomfortable."

Ryan shrugged. "I dunno; she looked like she was enjoying herself." He shook his head, laughing quietly. "Honestly, I didn't expect her to be so good so quickly."

"Yeah," Yaz agreed, recalling how the Doctor had racked up so many black cards. She grabbed another slice of pepperoni pizza, realising after she bit into it that she probably should have put it in the microwave first as it was now cold. Oh, well. She finished her slice just as the kettle went off. The Doctor made her way back to the table, holding two steaming mugs. "There you go, Ryan," she said approvingly. The alien sat down, stretching. "So…any ideas on what you guys want to do this week?"

Yaz and Ryan exchanged glances. "Well," Ryan said slowly, "Why not just keep it to Earth for a bit?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying," Ryan added quickly. "We've been to so many places and times, but you haven't experienced Sheffield life the way we have, Doctor. Why not just settle down and live a little?"

The Doctor folded her arms. "The last time I really settled down I ended up fighting a siege for nine hundred years straight in a town called Christmas," she said, shuddering.

"Okay," Ryan said carefully. "But you're not at war this time. You'll be fine."

Yaz nodded. "You can stay with me, Doctor. Besides, there are loads of places around Sheffield that we can show you. What do you think?"

The Doctor considered this. She nodded after a moment. "I'll try it."

* * *

 _Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz-_

Yaz rolled onto her side, groaning as she checked the time on her mobile. _0407._ A quick glance at the Caller ID told her that it was her precinct's dispatch office. She picked up. "PC Khan."

 _"Sorry to wake you, Yaz,"_ Ramesh Sunder said, a serious tone in his voice.

Yaz sat bolt upright, realising something was wrong. "Did something happen, Sergeant?"

 _"Yeah,"_ her superior admitted. _"I've got a tricky one for you."_

"Okay…"

" _There's a missing persons case up in Stafford involving a family from Denmark. The Danish embassy contacted Scotland Yard after the three missed their flight back to Copenhagen a few days ago. The problem is, none of the officials in Scotland Yard came back, so Staffordshire police sent their own squad to investigate."_

"And they didn't come back either?" Yaz asked, troubled.

 _"Nope,"_ he said grimly. _"Neither did a group sent from Derbyshire earlier this evening. That being the case, Hallamshire got asked assist as well. Problem is, the local castle's notorious for local disappearances, and after what happened yesterday, a lot of our officers are too scared to go over there. Can't say I blame 'em. I figured, due to a certain interest in not-so-boring stuff, I'd send you. Maybe it's just as well, since so many people have gone missing as it is."_

The woman's brow furrowed. "But sir, with all due respect, Stafford's way outside of our jurisdiction."

 _"I know,"_ Sunder affirmed. _"But the Staffordshire commissioner himself asked our chief constable for assistance in this, and I'm under orders."_

Yaz nodded. _There's not much you can do about it in that case._ "Understood. What time do you want me over there?"

 _"As soon as possible, before any tourists show up."_

"Got it. What are their names?"

" _Emma, Rasmus, and Jakob Hansen."_

Yaz nodded. "And the address?"

Sunder gave it to her. She wrote it down on a nearby notepad to keep track of the information. "Thanks. Have a good rest of the night." Yaz hung up, stretching. She put her uniform on, making a mental note to stop for coffee en route. She grabbed her mobile, walking quietly so as not to wake Ryan and the Doctor. Speaking of…

Yaz grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling a quick note for her friends, leaving it on the counter before heading out the door.

 ** _Gone to work. Something came up early; with any luck this assignment should be resolved soon. If you want breakfast, feel free to make something. Just don't set off the smoke alarms._**

 ** _-Yaz_**

Fortunately for Yaz, she was able to find a coffee shop that was open at four-something in the morning. She parked at the establishment in Chesterfield, walking inside. Unsurprisingly, it was relatively quiet, save for the music being played over the speakers.

The barista looked up, smiling. "Working the graveyard shift today, Constable?"

"Yep," Yaz confirmed. She looked at the menu. "Hmmm. What strong ones do you have?"

"Well, we've got Americanos, lattes, cold brews, and pretty much every other espresso beverage on the menu that would qualify in that area," the barista informed her.

Yaz perused the menu again. "I'll have a medium latte, please."

"Anything else?"

`She shrugged. "A couple o' scones couldn't hurt."

The barista keyed in the request. "Is that for here or to go?"

"To go, please."

"Eight seventeen."

Yaz handed the woman nine quid, receiving her change within seconds. "I'll have it available for you shortly," the barista told her.

Yaz stood off to the side, looking out the window. The predawn sky looked absolutely beautiful.

"You don't seem like a local," the barista remarked. "Where are you from?"

"Sheffield," Yaz responded, turning back to the employee. "What made you think I wasn't local?"

"All the coppers in Derbyshire have stopped by this place one time or another. I haven't seen you around before, so that means you're either new or you're from out of town." The barista glanced up. "Do you want your scones heated up?"

"That would be fine, thanks," Yaz responded. She frowned. "If you don't mind me asking, is there a petrol station on the highway between here and Stafford? I don't need it right now, but I will on the way back."

"Of course there is. I'll give you the address in a moment." She put Yaz's order on the counter. "Here's your food, ma'am."

Yaz grabbed her stuff. The barista stared at her intensely, a sudden change from the previous few minutes. The constable narrowed her eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"Officers have been disappearing," she told her, handing the constable the petrol station address. "Some of them were regulars here. If you see anything out of the ordinary, Constable, anything at all, you get yourself out of there. Just keep yourself alive, ma'am."

Yaz nodded. "Sure. I-I'll do my best." She left, confused. It was obvious that the barista was trying to warn her about something, and that something might be at the castle.

"What did she know?" Yaz whispered, starting up her car. She checked the clock. _0453._ "It doesn't matter right now; I have to get moving." She took a sip of coffee, then shifted the vehicle into gear.

* * *

SHEFFIELD

 _BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEEP-_

"Doctor? Doctor, wake up!"

The Doctor blinked, protesting a bit at being brought back to wakefulness. "Can't I get some sleep, Ryan?" She sat up, groaning. "What time is it?"

"Five-fifty."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah," Ryan responded.

The Doctor pulled a face. "It's too early. What could be so important?"

"Fire alarms are going off. We need to go— _now._ "

 _BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEEP-_

"All right," the Doctor conceded. "I'm going."

They exited the flat, reaching the ground level in under a minute. The early morning air was brisk, a small breeze making the weather feel slightly colder than it already was.

"Any idea what happened?" the Doctor asked, shivering slightly. _I have got to get warmer pyjamas. I'm freezing in these._

"Nope," Ryan responded. "The alarms just started going off."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Yaz. Where is she?"

"No idea," Ryan admitted. "I checked the flat; she wasn't there. She might have work."

"Probably." The Doctor spotted a couple of Park Hill residents nearby, flagging them down. "Oi! Do you know what's goin' on?"

One of them, a man, shrugged. "No idea. I heard something about weed, but that's for the coppers to find out."

The Doctor turned to Ryan, slightly confused. "Weed?"

"Marijuana," he clarified.

The Doctor nodded. "Right. Good. Just wondering, because the selenium grass on Zeta-Nine is also commonly referred to as 'weed'. The Shadow Proclamation had numerous issues with people getting high off of that in its gaseous form over the past couple o' centuries; lots of arrests. Some of those blokes ended up on penal colonies for a few years. Very tricky stuff."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. She had clearly gotten a couple of strange looks, because the man's next words were, "Don't mind her; she's always this weird."

The Doctor folded her arms, staring at the apartment complex. Ryan bent forward a bit, whispering in her ear. "Maybe try _not_ to go around advertising that you're an alien?"

"Sorry; can't help it," the Doctor whispered back.

It was half an hour before they got the all-clear to go back inside. Word about what had happened spread across the Park Hill tenants like wildfire. From what the Doctor had heard, a few people in Flat 12 had decided to get drunk and smoke weed— _marijuana,_ she had to remind herself—inside their apartment, the act of which set off the fire alarms across the building.

"At least that rude awakening is over with," she muttered while climbing up the stairs. She and Ryan soon arrived back at Flat 34, both looking exhausted.

"Did you grab a key?" she asked.

Ryan shook his head. "Did you?"

"No." The Doctor reached into her pyjama pockets, pulling out her sonic screwdriver. "I did bring this, though." She activated it, opening the door. "Not too difficult."

"I just wish Yaz would have a spare key laying around," Ryan muttered, closing the door behind them.

The Time Lord yawned. "Just where the heck _is_ Yaz, anyway?"

Ryan walked over to the kitchen counter, picking up a piece of paper. "It's from her: 'Gone to work,'" he read, "'Something came up early; with any luck this assignment should be resolved soon. If you want breakfast, feel free to make something. Just don't set off the smoke alarms.'" He put the paper back down, annoyed. "I'd rather not go through another round of that, thank you very much."

The Doctor glanced at the clock. _0629._ She stretched. "Well, we're up anyway. We might as well get a shift on."

* * *

STAFFORD

Yaz ultimately arrived at her destination around 0635, the castle spires towering overhead as she parked her car. She exited the vehicle, staring up at the place she had heard so many ills about over the course of a couple of hours.

"I still don't understand why I had to travel more than a hundred kilometres for something like this," she muttered, locking up the car. "They must have really been desperate." She walked inside, the barista's warning in mind. The constable unholstered her gun, wary. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone here? This is the police!"

Nothing. Yaz frowned, walking to the directory map. Fortunately, the castle wasn't as much of a maze as she had first thought, so she put "getting lost" on her mental backburner for a possible reason for why so many people had disappeared.

Yaz activated her radio. "This is PC Khan. I'm inside the castle at Stafford."

Nothing. _I must be out of range,_ she realised. She grabbed her mobile, dialling Sunder's number.

 _"This is Sunder,"_ he said.

"Sergeant, this is PC Khan," Yaz said. "I'm inside the castle at Stafford."

 _"Acknowledged,"_ Sunder responded. _"Be careful, Yaz. We don't know what's out there. Keep us updated."_

"Acknowledged, sir." Yaz ended the call. She treaded carefully, looking for anything out of the ordinary. She frowned, seeing a group of macabre-looking statues clustered around a mirror. "Now _that's_ not something you see every day." She turned left, heading for the toilets. It was as good of a place to check as any—and she was feeling the effects of having a lot of coffee while driving.

She entered the ladies' room, holstering her gun. "Emma Hansen, are you in here?" she asked.

No response. A thorough check of the stalls revealed that there was no one in the lavatory but herself. After taking a few minutes to relieve herself, Yaz proceeded to check the men's room directly across the hall.

The door would not budge.

Yaz frowned, knocking on the door. "Is there anyone in there? This is the police! Open up!"

The constable heard movement inside, near the door. "How many of you are there?" a man's voiced asked, the accent definitely foreign.

"It's just me," Yaz told him.

"Are you alone?"

Yaz checked the area, nodding. "Yes; I'm alone. Are you going to let me in?"

"Yes, madam." The lock clicked, and Yaz was pulled inside before the door locked shut again. Yaz turned, seeing a frightened man in his mid-thirties, ginger hair skewed all over the place. "Rasmus Hansen?" she asked, cautious.

The man nodded. "Are they gone?" he asked.

Yaz tilted her head. "Are who gone? What about your family?"

Rasmus broke down in tears. "My family…oh, God." He sobbed. Yaz knelt down, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine. Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

"My wife and baby," he whispered. "They were taken."

Yaz frowned. "Taken? By what?"

Rasmus trembled. "St-st-statues. Please, tell me you saw statues?"

 _Odd question._ "I saw a lot of statues, but there _were_ a few strange ones on the way here," Yaz admitted. "They were all crowded around a mirror. They didn't look so happy about it." She frowned. "What makes you think it was the statues?"

Rasmus crumpled again. "The three of us were walking down the corridors and then… _they_ appeared. It was almost as though they moved while you weren't looking, even for a second. And then Emma…Jakob—" the Dane broke down, screaming in anguish. Yaz looked at him sympathetically, knowing what he was about to say next. She changed the subject. "So, you just…ran?"

"Into here, yes," the man confirmed. "I didn't take my eyes off of them, not even for a second. I didn't even blink. I just… _ran_ ; locked myself in here. Turns out those things don't like mirrors." He frowned. "My phone ran out of charge sometime after I got in here." He looked back up at her. "Officer…how long have I been in here? I really don't feel good."

"About three to four days," she informed him. "You're lucky to be alive, mate." Yaz looked him over. "Have you consumed any food or water since you locked yourself in here?"

"N-no food, ma'am. I've been drinking from the taps." He pointed to the sinks.

Yaz frowned, fishing around in her vest until she found a granola bar. "Here; eat this. I'll let my superiors know what's going on. Okay?"

The Dane nodded, shaking.

Yaz again dialled Sunder's number. _"Did you find anything, Yaz?"_ her superior asked, picking up promptly.

"I found Rasmus Hansen, sir," she told him. "He locked himself in the lavatory for the past few days."

" _How is he?"_

"Malnourished and terrified. I gave him a granola bar, but I did not have any bottled water on me for him to drink."

 _"We'll do what we can for him once you get him out of there,"_ Sunder promised her. _"What of Emma and Jakob?"_

"No sign of them. Rasmus keeps saying that they were taken—by statues." She frowned. "But…statues don't move, do they?"

 _"No,"_ Sunder said. _"However, I heard about a similar case at Wester Drumlins back in '08. Something about angel statues and a lot of people disappearing. Nobody could explain it. But, if it_ does _turn out to be another case like that, get the hell out of there. Fast. That's an order."_

"Understood, sir." Yaz turned back to Rasmus, hanging up. "Can you walk?"

"I don't feel like getting up right now," the Dane moaned, having finished the granola bar.

"It's okay," Yaz reassured him. "We'll wait 'til you're able." She looked up. "I am, however, going to have to unlock the door."

Rasmus grabbed her arm. "No! _Please!_ "

"I'm not going to open it," she said gently. "Besides, you said they don't like mirrors, right?" She gestured to the front part of the lavatory. "This place is full of them."

Rasmus reluctantly let go. "If-if you say so."

Yaz unlocked the door, careful not to open it. She turned back to Rasmus. "See? Nothing to worry about."

The Danish man nodded mutely, a look of terror still in his eyes. "What do we do now?"

Yaz folded her arms. "That's all on you. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can get out of here. But we're not leaving before then."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, mate." Yaz stood guard, staring at the door. _Sunder's warning is just like what the barista told me in Chesterfield,_ she mused. _What the hell is going on here? I want answers, and once I find those answers, this all needs to stop._

 _But…statues?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who._

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _SHEFFIELD_

Ryan checked the clock again. _9:34._ Whatever assignment Yaz was working on, it definitely _wasn't_ taking a short amount of time. He glanced at the Doctor, who was clearly sharing his misgivings.

"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ryan admitted. "You're bored, too?"

"Definitely," she said. "I also don't feel like watching telly all day."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "So what are you waiting for?"

The Doctor stood, stretching. "Where do you want to go?"

Ryan grinned. "I wanted to try that bike again, if that's alright with you."

The Doctor nodded. "Absolutely."

 _ONE HOUR LATER…_

Ryan stood, wincing. He'd already fallen into the grass more times than he'd cared to count, and his side was starting to ache after falling on it so much. He looked up, seeing the Doctor and Graham, the latter of whom had joined them some time previously.

"I think that's enough for a bit," he told them.

Graham glanced at the Doctor. "So, what now, Doc?"

The alien woman shrugged. "I was thinking about taking the TARDIS out for a quick trip—just to stop by and say hello to Yaz while she's at work."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Graham asked sceptically.

"She's bound to get on break eventually," Ryan pointed out.

The Doctor nodded. "Looks like it's settled, then."

They entered the TARDIS, materialising around Graham's car. He sighed. "Doc, how many times do I have to tell you? Not the car!"

"Like I've said every time, Graham, your car's fine," the alien retorted. She gestured to the vehicle. "And for the record, you were parked under a group of pigeons, so it looks like I just did you a favour."

The TARDIS ground its gears in response. The Doctor pulled a face. "Relax; you'll get a bath in the Time Vortex."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Pigeons?"

"Unfortunately," she admitted. "Apparently she just got hit with what would have happened to the paint job on Graham's car."

Ryan frowned, disgusted. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. She'll be fine once we get her cleaned up." She pulled the lever, and the familiar sound of the engines filled the console room. They stopped a minute later.

"Hey, Ryan?" the Doctor asked, fiddling with the console. "Can you step outside and check on the TARDIS exterior? I'm having trouble getting readings here."

"Sure." He opened the door, craning his neck upwards as he stepped backwards, aiming his phone torch at the top of the TARDIS. "I'm not seeing any pigeon shite on the roof, Doctor."

"That's wonderful news!" the woman called. "Come back inside!"

"Got it!" Ryan turned around, about to snuff out the torch when a particularly gruesome sight caught his eye—that of a rotting corpse with what looked like its spine ripped out. The _smell_ was a lot worse.

 _That is proper disgusting._

His eyes widened. Before he knew it, nausea and panic got the better of him and he ran back into the TARDIS, hyperventilating over the console.

"Everything okay, Ryan?" the Doctor asked, concerned.

"No way," he admitted, pointing outside. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Well don't do it in here!" Graham complained.

"I did a scan of the place, and it looks like there's a men's room once you turn on the hallway to the left," the Doctor informed him. Ryan felt her hand on his shoulder. "What did you see out there?"

Ryan looked up at her, scared. "Dead body; _decomposing,_ dead body, with its spine ripped out!"

The alien's brow furrowed. "I wonder what could have done that." She straightened, removing her hand from his shoulder. "Come on, you two."

Ryan briefly thought about objecting, but the prospect of a lavatory nearby overruled his fear. He exited the TARDIS, once again forced to look at the corpse.

"Poor bloke," Graham breathed. He shone his phone torch on it, revealing a police uniform. "I hope it's not anybody Yaz knows."

"I doubt it," the Doctor said, looking closer. She scanned it with her sonic. "Staffordshire Police. He's local. _Was_ local."

 _We're in Stafford?_ Ryan frowned, trying to control his nausea. "I thought we were going to find Yaz."

"We were," the Doctor confirmed. "This was where the TARDIS said she'd be." Her expression darkened. "In any case, we have to find Yaz and get out of here, quick as we can. It's likely that whatever killed this man is still around." She gestured to the humans. "I understand this is…well, disturbing. Like I said, men's lavatory is a left turn away. Do what you need to."

Graham nodded. "What about you, Doc?"

The alien frowned. "I need to cover the body. Also…there's something I'm missing, and I don't like it at all."

"Be careful." The Doctor nodded, her expression unreadable. Graham and Ryan ran to the lavatory, barging in. Ryan vomited for several seconds, vaguely aware of Graham's presence in the stall next to him. He wiped his mouth, flushing the toilet before poking his head out and —

 _"Yaz?!"_

* * *

 _EARTH, 1973 CE_

 _LONDON_

Grant frowned. "I don't get why he'd name a piece after an emotion. 'Ode to Joy'? How can there be a serenade to a feeling?" "Music is a complicated thing, Jo," the Doctor said, trying to explain. "Remember how I played the flute?"

"Yeah."

"And you were terrible at it," Lethbridge-Stewart added.

"I'm trying to make a point here," the Time Lord muttered, turning back to the woman. "Well, you see, Jo, each piece that I have learned is based on a composer's interpretation of a given concept, such as an emotion or feeling," the Doctor summarised. "It isn't always named, but it's still beautiful. And Beethoven…well, to be honest, I have no idea why he chose to name that particular piece the way he did."

Benton piped up. "Well, you've got a time machine, don't you, Doctor? Why not just ask him?"

The Doctor beamed. "I hadn't thought about that. What a splendid idea! We'll go tomorrow morning!"

"I personally do not mind one way or the other," Lethbridge-Stewart muttered. "Just so long as you let me get some sleep first." _And do not disturb me about Cybermen or anything like that for the rest of the night, thank you very much._

Unfortunately for the Brigadier, his rest was indeed disturbed.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of arguing men, one of whom sounded very much like the Doctor. He groaned, checking the time on his alarm clock. _0217._

 _Perhaps spending the night at headquarters isn't such a good idea after all._ He stretched, putting on a bathrobe over his pyjamas before walking into the common area. Sure enough, the Doctor was shouting at someone—Benton, probably—about TARDIS maintenance. Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head, stepping foot inside the open TARDIS doorway.

"Gentlemen!"

Both men stood, eyeing the Brigadier. "Ah, good morning, Lethbridge-Stewart! Care to join us?" the Doctor asked.

The Brigadier raised a bemused eyebrow. "Maybe once I've woken up a bit, Doctor."

Understanding dawned on the Sergeant's face. "Oh, sorry, Sir. Did we wake you?"

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded. "Yes, you most certainly did."

"Wonderful!" the Doctor exclaimed. Benton raised an eyebrow.

The Brigadier resisted the urge to yawn. "Doctor, in case you haven't noticed, it is very nearly two twenty-five in the morning!"

"Is it?" The Doctor scratched his chin. "Would you like to sleep in here, then, Brigadier?"

Lethbridge-Stewart threw up his hands. "It's clear I won't get sleep anywhere else. I'll go get my uniform-in case I get woken up again."

True to his word, the Brigadier returned to the TARDIS with his uniform on, also having brought a book along with him. He figured that, if the Doctor and Benton kept him up, he'd have something better to do than complain.

It was either that, or paperwork.

"I'm back, Doctor," he announced, even though it was blatantly obvious. "Do you have anywhere I can sleep for a bit?"

The alien opened a door in the back. "There are a few guest bedrooms in the back. You should be able to get some rest there. Captain Yates has also decided to crash in here for a bit," he added.

"Thank you, Doctor." Lethbridge-Stewart walked down the corridor, promptly crashing as soon as he found an empty bed he liked. He eventually woke up much more refreshed, stretching. "I've got to hand it to the Doctor," he told the empty room. "He really knows how to make these rooms soundproof." He'd had no further disturbances to his sleep.

Lethbridge-Stewart walked out of the bedroom, making his way to the TARDIS console room. Surprisingly, there was no sign of either the Doctor or Benton, and he hadn't seen Yates or Miss Grant either, come to think of it.

 _Maybe they finally decided to get some sleep._

The TARDIS doors opened. The Brigadier walked outside, and his eyes widened as he realised that they were no longer in the UNIT HQ common area.

 _Goddamn it. I didn't ask to be spirited away from there; I just wanted to sleep._ He sighed exasperatedly. "Doctor? Come out here _at once!_ "

No response. The Brigadier rolled his eyes, closing the door behind him. "Honestly. What _is_ it with that man?"

He looked at the landscape. The ground was black, almost crystalline, and the sky was a light shade of grey. Except—

 _Is that smoke?_

His eyes narrowed as he saw the tell-tale trail in the air. _Yes. That is. Doctor, what the hell did you do?_

He heard the sound of a weapon cocking behind him. He reached for his gun, turning around so he had the unknown person at gunpoint.

There was just a slight problem: The alien in front of him had a much bigger gun.

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _STAFFORD_

Yaz had been sitting down next to Rasmus when the door suddenly opened, two figures running inside the lavatory. Rasmus scooted closer to the door, spooked, shutting it promptly. The constable raised an eyebrow, frowning as she heard sounds of vomiting coming from at least one of the stalls, followed by flushing. She stood, about to ask if everything was okay when one of the figures emerged, staring at her in shock.

 _"Yaz?!"_

"Ryan!" she exclaimed, surprised. They embraced, Ryan holding her tightly—a little too tightly. She grimaced. "You're squishing me."

"Sorry." He let go, panting. "You're okay!"

"And _clearly_ you're _not,_ " she retorted. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Here's a more important question," Graham's voice complained from one of the stalls. "What _the hell_ are you doing in the men's lavatory, Yaz?"

"I'm at work!"

Ryan raised an eyebrow, breathing having started to return to normal. Yaz rolled her eyes. "Look. I got a call from dispatch at four a.m., and it was serious enough for me to have to drive over a hundred kilometres to get here. Didn't you see my note?"

"Yeah, the Doctor and I both did," he told her. "It was kind of vague."

The sound of another toilet flushing interrupted them. Graham emerged, washing his hands at the sink. "Well, carry on, then," the older man muttered. "Don't let me stop you."

Yaz shrugged. "Did you two come in the TARDIS?"

"Yep," Graham confirmed, voice surprisingly heavy as he shut off the faucet. "The Doc's still over by the dead body Ryan found near it."

 _"WHAT?!"_

Ryan nodded, a pained look in his eyes. "It's…grisly."

"Was it a woman or a baby?" Rasmus asked, worry in his voice.

Ryan shook his head. "No; it was a man. Staffordshire Police."

Rasmus sighed, probably with some relief. Graham walked over to him. "What's your name?"

"Rasmus," he responded shakily. "My family and I were—" He faltered. Graham knelt down in front of him. "I'm Graham, and this is my grandson, Ryan. Where are you from, mate?"

"Co-Copenhagen. We were on vacation."

"He's the reason I'm here," Yaz piped up. "The Danish Embassy contacted Scotland Yard, but those officials also went missing. Staffordshire's own police started investigating, but the same thing happened. That was also the case with Derbyshire last night."

"So your division was next," Ryan guessed.

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed. "I was the only one they sent."

"They probably didn't want anyone else missing," Ryan said. "Smart move."

"Anyway," Yaz said sternly, "We have just confirmed this is a major incident. A man has died here, and who knows how many others have gone missing. I need to update my report."

"So how did this happen in the first place?" Ryan asked.

"Angels," Rasmus said, panic starting to settle in his voice again.

Ryan frowned, perplexed. "Angels?"

"He means the statues," Yaz explained. She glanced at the other present members of Team TARDIS. "You… _did_ see statues, right?"

Ryan and Graham exchanged nervous looks. "We weren't exactly paying attention," Graham admitted.

Yaz paled.

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _STAFFORD_

 _ELSEWHERE IN THE CASTLE MUSEUM_

 _Keep it to Earth, they said._

Out of all of the things that could have happened, this was the last thing that the Doctor could have expected. She looked down once again at the police officer's corpse, failing more than once to control her gag reflex. She'd seen gruesome things, sure, but this—

 _No. Focus._

"I am so, so sorry this happened to you," she whispered sadly. "I promise, I will find out who you are, and whoever did this, and I will do my best to make sure they are dealt with." She gingerly removed his radio, walking inside the TARDIS before placing it on the console and exiting once again, a medical blanket in her arms as she closed the door shut behind her.

 _Perhaps that radio will tell us more about who he is, and how he died._

She hoped.

The Doctor placed the medical blanket over the poor man's corpse, scanning his body with her sonic screwdriver. She checked the device, frowning.

 _Time of death was two days ago. I'm surprised no one found him sooner._

 _Unless whoever was looking didn't make it this far._

Without warning, the screwdriver's power went out.

"Seriously? You want to do this _now?_ " The Doctor frowned, attempting to turn it back on again and again, to no avail. "Come _on!_ " she hissed, annoyed.

A quick look in front of piqued the Time Lord's interest—something _stone._ It hadn't been there a moment ago.

Dread coursed through the Doctor's being. She looked up slowly, terror increasing as she saw the _very pissed-off_ Weeping Angel in front of her.

 _Don't blink._ The Doctor gulped. "Hi."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

* * *

"Which side are you on?" the alien with the larger gun asked, sharp teeth gritted. The voice sounded feminine, almost Scottish. "Are you an agent of the Daleks?"

Lethbridge-Stewart frowned. _Daleks? Again?_ "I can assure you, I am not on their side, and I am certainly not involved in whatever scrap you've got going on with them."

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, though her hand was shaking. "I know a soldier when I see one! We have been at war for twenty years against those genocidal maniacs!"

The Brigadier's heart sank. _We're in a war zone. Great._ "I am _not_ your enemy!" He then attempted to placate her. "Okay, yes, I am a soldier. But I do not know where or when the hell I am."

The alien's eyes narrowed. "You really don't, do you?" She sighed, taking out what looked like a portable scanner. She frowned. "No wonder you don't know where you are; the amount of artron particles around you is enormous. You are on the planet Obsidian Nine, and it is the year 2257." She frowned. "Now, out with it, you. Name, species, military branch, rank, and planet of origin."

 _I guess I don't have a choice in this one_. "Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Human, United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, Army Brigadier, Earth, and I come from the year 1973." The Brigadier did not lower his weapon. "Now, go on. Same questions, back at you."

The alien's lip curled. "Addeis, Obsidinite, Joint Obsidian Planetary Marines, Reconnaissance Scout." She raised an eyebrow, reptilian features becoming noticeable. "How did you arrive in this time period?"

"I came here in this thing." He gestured to the TARDIS before facing her again. "What are artron particles, exactly?"

"They are indicators of temporal anomalies. Such as yourself."

"Apparently." _Seeing as I suddenly found myself almost three hundred years in the future on an alien planet._

Addeis pocketed her scanner but kept the grip on her weapon tight. "Seeing as you are a time traveller, I can assume you're with the Time Lord, then?"

 _Oh, boy._ It took him a moment to realise who she must be talking about. "If you mean a tall, white-haired fellow with a ridiculous coat, then yes," Lethbridge-Stewart told her.

Addeis frowned, lowering her gun. "An associate of the medic. Wonderful."

 _Apparently, I was right._ "I see you already experienced his eccentricity."

"Yep," Addeis admitted. "He was strange, and somewhat annoying at times."

"Welcome to my world."

Addeis's eyes narrowed. "Your…world?"

 _Oh._ The Brigadier gave her a placating smile. "It's just a figure of speech where I come from."

"I see."

Lethbridge-Stewart holstered his own weapon. "Speaking of, where _is_ that man?"

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _STAFFORD_

 _CURRENT LOCATION OF RASMUS HANSEN_

Yaz made an executive decision. "I'm calling the Doctor."

"Doctor?" Rasmus piped up. "You have doctor?"

"Yep," the constable confirmed, reaching for her mobile. "She's a bit strange, but she's really nice. I think you'll like her." She frowned, eyes narrowing at the message on her screen.

 _No service._

"That's weird," Yaz mused. "I just had full bars a few minutes ago."

"They're coming," Rasmus said grimly.

Ryan frowned. "How can you tell?"

"The Angels drain power when they're close. Then they take you."

Graham raised an eyebrow. "They're just statues, mate."

"No, they're not!" Rasmus insisted.

 _Now that I think about it…_ "I might have to agree with the Dane on this one, Graham," Yaz said sympathetically, putting away her phone. "I saw a few angry-looking statues crowded around a mirror just after I got here; artists just don't make works like that, especially in a castle museum dated back to the reign of Queen Elisabeth I."

"Angels?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah."

Graham threw up his hands in frustration. "Well, that's just great. If it turns out we _are_ dealing with killer statues, how do we expect to get out of this one?"

Yaz frowned, facing Rasmus. "When you said that the Angels 'take you', where do you mean, exactly?"

"You disappear," Rasmus responded vaguely. "One touch, and, poof. You're gone."

"That's not very helpful, mate," Ryan muttered.

"It's all we have to go off of at the moment," Yaz rebuked. "And to be _quite_ frank, I'd prefer _not_ to be spirited away by a statue of all things." She locked the entrance door.

"Hang on a minute!" Graham protested. "We can't stay in here forever, you know!"

"I'm _aware,_ Graham. We need to come up with a plan," Yaz said sternly, pulling out her notepad. "Got any ideas?"

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _STAFFORD_

 _ELSEWHERE IN THE CASTLE MUSEUM_

The Doctor backed away slowly, keeping her eyes open as she watched the Angel. "Okay," she whispered, hearing a slight quaver in her voice. She didn't know if it was fear, rage, or both. Probably both. "It all makes sense now, doesn't it? You're using this museum as a feeding ground, is that it?" _This is bad. Yaz, Graham, and Ryan are in serious danger. I have to go warn them._

Her sonic screwdriver rebooted, and ever so discreetly, she turned the TARDIS force field up to maximum. The Doctor placed it in her bum bag, zipping it up, all while keeping her gaze locked on the Angel.

 _How many are there? How long have these monsters been here? Is my fam safe?_

 _Am I surrounded?_

The lights flickered. The Angel was closer than she liked now.

 _Maybe now would be a good time to run._

She kept backing up, deviating so that she was moving away from the TARDIS instead of towards it. The Doctor had no idea how long the force fields would hold, or if the Angel had decided to try draining it.

The corridor was then engulfed in darkness.

The Doctor stayed absolutely still, hearts leaping to her throat with dread. "No lights," she told herself. "This is _very_ not good."

Cold stone hands gripped her tightly by the throat, brutally forcing the now panicking Time Lord against the castle wall. The lights flickered back on, revealing the Angel nose-to-nose in front of her, _much_ angrier than it had been previously.

If it hadn't been holding her throat in a death grip, the Doctor would have screamed.

* * *

"We can outrun them," Graham suggested.

Rasmus shook his head. "Not unless you're running… _baglæns._ How do you say in English, again? Not forwards?"

"Backwards?" Ryan supplied.

"Backwards," Rasmus repeated. "Right. Tak—Thanks."

Yaz frowned. "So, that's it? We can't take our eyes off of it? Otherwise it'll get us?"

Rasmus nodded.

 _Wonderful._ Graham folded his arms. "So, we just look at them. Fine. Rasmus, how did you go about it?"

The Dane shrugged. "I just tried not blinking, and that seemed to have worked. I guess that's why they don't like mirrors."

Ryan's brow furrowed. "Are they _that_ ugly?"

Yaz pulled a face. "Judging by the ones I saw earlier, I'd have to go with a solid 'yes.'"

Ryan walked over to Graham. "So…based on what we just learned, when is a statue not a statue?"

"When it's moving," Graham answered easily.

"But what about when we cannot see them?" Rasmus challenged, voice growing confident, but still weak with malnourishment. "We do not know what they do when we are not watching."

Yaz's eyes narrowed. "What if that includes blinking?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Graham breathed. _If we can't blink…_

Ryan's eyebrows shot up in a similar reaction. "Then we're probably done for."

"Not if you try really hard to keep your peepers open wide," Rasmus said firmly.

Yaz frowned. "You can't not blink, mate. It's not possible."

"Not for long. But if it comes down to that, we do not have any other possibility."

Graham nodded. Yaz glanced at Rasmus. "Can you stand?"

The Dane tried standing, but it was painfully clear that he could not support his own weight. Yaz consoled him, telling the Dane that they'd give him a hand.

The sound of a loud crash sent a jolt through Graham's veins. "What the hell was that?!"

"Whatever it was, it's close," Yaz remarked. She pocketed her notepad, unholstering a pistol.

"Whoa, Yaz!" Graham panicked. "You know the Doc's really not going to like that."

"Like it or not, I'm on duty, Graham," Yaz reminded him sternly. "I'm authorised to use whatever means necessary to keep you all safe."

"You can't kill a statue," Ryan warned.

Yaz adjusted her weapon. "Then I can at least slow it down."

 _I don't know…_ "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Graham asked.

"I'll be looking at it anyway," Yaz assured him. "Graham, you and Ryan help Rasmus." Her face turned serious. "We're leaving. _Now._ "

He nodded. Graham walked over to the Dane's right side, Ryan moving to the man's left. "Are you ready, mate?"

Rasmus nodded grimly. "I'm doing a little better now."

"Try to save the relief for later," Yaz said sternly. "We're in no way out of this one yet." She unlocked the door, opening it slowly, gun in front of her.

"Well?" Ryan asked, cautious.

"Coast is clear. Come on."

They moved out of the lavatory, huddling behind Yaz. The constable occasionally glanced behind her, clearly watching out for angel statues.

"Where did you say the TARDIS was, again?" Yaz asked.

Graham grimaced, struggling slightly under Rasmus's weight. Even malnourished, the Dane was still decently muscular. "It should be in the corridor to your right."

"The _next_ corridor?"

"Yeah."

They crept forward, coming up on the turn several metres later. Graham glanced behind them. _No angels. So far, we're safe._

"Okay," Yaz said warily, once they were all in the hallway. "How far down?"

"At least ten metres," Graham told her.

Yaz nodded, gun pointed straight in front of her. They moved again, slower, matching the young constable's reduced pace.

An all-too-familiar smell hit Graham's nose. Yaz expressed her disgust verbally, adding, "That's ripe."

"Yeah," Ryan confirmed. "That's the dead body we were telling you about. We're close."

Yaz stopped short a few moments later, pistol at the ready. "DON'T MOVE OR I'LL SHOOT!"

"Angel?" Graham guessed, glancing at her face.

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed, voice trembling. "It's looking right at me." She blinked. A second later, she screamed, firing several rounds.

"Did it move?" Ryan asked.

" _Obviously,_ otherwise I wouldn't be _shooting_ it!" Yaz snapped.

"So I guess blinking _is_ out, then."

"Shut up, Ryan!"

Rasmus gulped. "T-there _are_ bodies."

"We can focus on that later, mate," Yaz said, ceasing fire. "Can one of you take over for me? I need to blink."

Ryan nodded, relinquishing his support of the Dane. "I got you." He gasped, clearly spooked, staring at the creature. "How long do you need?"

"I'll let you know when."

"This thing is proper scary..."

"I'm aware." Yaz turned around, gasping as she blinked. Graham frowned. "You alright, Yaz?"

"I'm just a bit shook up, that's all," she told him, panting. "I am _never_ looking at a statue the same way again." She reached into her uniform, pulling out what looked to be more ammunition, clearly having wasted bullets on the angel statue.

Graham nodded, satisfied. A random thought popped into his head as he turned back to the Dane, lowering his voice. "Did you say 'bodies', mate? As in—plural?"

"Yeah," Rasmus whispered, pointing ahead into the corridor. Graham scooted the two of them over, not only seeing a horrifying-looking angel statue, but the TARDIS several metres diagonally to the left behind it. He saw something on the ground covered in a blanket—presumably the dead body they had seen earlier. A closer look revealed a small figure laying very still, crumpled in front of the TARDIS doors just a few metres behind the shrouded figure. Graham's breath caught in his throat, an unwelcome chill running over him as he did his best to suppress the urge to panic.

"No," he breathed. _Not the Doc._

"What?" Yaz asked, worry in her voice. Her gun cocked. "What is it?"

"Focus on the angel!" Graham snapped. _We can't afford to have anyone else go down right now._

"Yaz?" Ryan asked. "Are you ready to switch?"

"Ready!" the young constable hollered.

"Now!"

The two youngest members of Team TARDIS switched places again, Yaz opening fire on the statue as Ryan ran back to Graham and Rasmus. He resumed supporting the Dane on his left, relieving Graham of some of the physical weight. His eyes widened, evidently having seen the Doctor.

"Okay," Ryan said slowly. "Now we can panic."

Graham glanced at him. "Do you want to make a break for the TARDIS?"

"Definitely." Ryan frowned. "How many of these angels _are_ there?"

"I only see one," Rasmus commented, coughing. Graham looked at him worriedly. "Save your strength, mate." He looked around, relieved to see that the Dane was right. "Okay," the older man said, looking back at Rasmus and Ryan. "Ready?"

They nodded.

"RUN!"

The three made their way to the TARDIS as fast as they could, getting there without interference.

Just one problem…

 _We can't get in._

The TARDIS doors refused to budge, no matter how hard Graham tried. He glared at the ship. "Come on, you! Open up!"

"We are in _danger,_ dammit!" Ryan screamed. "If we stay out here, we're probably going to die. _LET. US. IN!_ "

Graham held his breath. Finally, the doors opened. He glanced at Ryan. "Get him inside," he said seriously. "I'll grab the Doctor."

Ryan nodded, relieving him entirely of the Dane's weight. Graham knelt down, picking up the alien bridal-style in his arms. The Doctor did not wake, her head lolling to the side. Graham looked forwards, worried, seeing Yaz still firing at the angel.

"YAZ!" he hollered. "COME ON! WE'RE LEAVING!"

"BUT I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT!" the constable retorted.

Graham sighed. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO ARGUE, YAZ! I'LL KEEP AN EYE ON IT. JUST HEAD FOR THE TARDIS! HURRY!"

Yaz stopped firing, fleeing for her life as Graham stared at the creature.

 _No blinking,_ he told himself.

That, he found, was a seriously difficult task.

Yaz was only a couple of metres away now. Graham kept his eyes on the angel. "Come on, Yaz! COME ON!"

The constable ran right past him, into the TARDIS. He backed up, walking inside. Graham glanced over his shoulder. "Everyone's here!"

"Get us _out_ of here!" Ryan pleaded.

Graham looked outside, seeing the angel a few metres closer to them than it was previously. The TARDIS doors slammed shut in front of him, and the familiar sound of the ship's engines reverberated through the room as it, too, decided to flee.

After a few seconds, they stopped.

Graham frowned. "Where are we?"

"We must be in the parking lot, just outside the castle," Yaz guessed.

"How can you tell?"

"We materialised around my police car." She walked over to him, noticing the Doctor limp in Graham's arms for the first time. She frowned. "What…happened?"

"No idea," Graham admitted, setting the alien down. "We just found her like this."

Yaz's eyes narrowed. "Can you help me get her coat off? I need to check for injuries."

Graham nodded. They were able to get it off after a moment, and he put the coat next to the console. Ryan walked over, Rasmus in tow.

"Where is your doctor?" Rasmus asked, noticing the alien.

Yaz turned back to him. "You're looking right at her, mate." She glanced at Graham. "Graham, I'm going to have to ask you to give me some space. But don't go far."

The older man backed up, leaving Yaz to check over the Doctor. He looked down, seeing an ugly set of bruises on the alien's neck, along with a few long scrapes in the same area. Yaz sighed, having noticed it as well. "Whatever it was that got to her, it was aiming to strangle."

"Please tell me we don't have a snake on the loose, too," Ryan groaned.

Yaz shook her head. "No; these bruises look like they were done by hands. Ones that had a _very_ strong grip." She checked the alien over, checking both wrists.

"Well?" Ryan asked.

Yaz straightened after a moment, exhaling with relief. "She's got both pulses."

Rasmus frowned, ginger hair falling in his face as the confused expression on his face became prominent. " _Both_ pulses?"

"Long story short, she's an alien with two hearts," Ryan explained.

"You jest!"

"Nah, mate, it's true," Graham responded.

Rasmus looked around, eyes now wide. "And this…this is her spaceship?"

He nodded.

Rasmus sighed. "Wow." His face fell. "I wish Emma and Jakob could see this." Tears fell down the Dane's face. "Assuming," he started, faltering. "Assuming they were still alive, wherever they are, do you think my wife and son, do you think they'll remember me?"

Yaz stood. "I think they'll definitely miss you," she said. "And Jakob will probably grow up to be someone you'll be proud of."

"But—will I be able to see them again?"

Yaz bowed her head. "I'm sorry, mate. I don't know."

Rasmus closed his eyes, more tears sliding down his face. The TARDIS doors opened, revealing a parking lot outside. Graham stepped out, seeing police cars from Derbyshire and Staffordshire lining several of the spaces. The crisp winter wind brushed against his face, reminding him of just how much they had gone through today.

Rasmus and Ryan joined him, followed closely by Yaz. Graham glanced at the young constable. "How's the Doc?"

Yaz shrugged. "She hasn't woken up yet, if that's what you mean." She sighed, leaning against the ship. "Whatever hurt her must have left her for dead. Nobody with _that_ strong a grip aims to be merciful."

"Just be glad the lass is alive," Rasmus said grimly.

Ryan glanced at him. "What are you thinking of doing once we get out of this, mate?"

Rasmus shrugged. "At this point? Go back to Denmark, hit the pub, and drink until I don't have to live with this nightmare."

"I'd advise _against_ that last part," Yaz warned.

Rasmus gritted his teeth, swaying slightly. "I just lost my wife and baby, Yasmin! What the hell do you _expect_ me to do?"

"Remember them," she said seriously. "And don't you dare throw your life away just because you lost them, mate, because that's no way to live. Get a shift on and carry them with you. That's really all you can do."

He didn't respond for a moment, instead choosing to change the subject. "How is a spaceship large enough to fit two automobiles inside able to fit inside a parking lot?" He turned around, eyes narrowing. "What?" He disentangled himself from Ryan, walking around the TARDIS, poking his head inside before looking back outside, flummoxed. "It's bigger on the inside!" He raised an eyebrow. "Is it supposed to be like that?"

Graham shrugged. "I…guess." Truthfully, he had just stopped questioning it after they had gotten themselves away from Desolation.

"And the alien doctor—is she the only one who knows how to fly this thing?"

"Her ship flies itself sometimes," Yaz admitted, "but the rest of us never actually learned."

The four of them stared at the castle museum for a silent moment, sobered by what had happened. It was Ryan who eventually broke the silence. "So what now?"

"I've been thinking," Yaz responded. "If I can somehow manage to hook up my phone's GPS to the console, we might be able to get to the precinct in Sheffield." She raised an eyebrow. "I might have a charger in the car."

"Is your phone dead?" Rasmus asked.

"Yeah. I think it might have been because of that angel." She glanced back at them. "Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who._

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _SHEFFIELD_

 _HALLAMSHIRE POLICE PRECINCT HQ—DISPATCH_

The sound of strange engines woke Sergeant Ramesh Sunder abruptly from his nap at the desk. He turned, seeing something slowly materialising in the corner.

"What the—" the Sergeant started, getting up from his chair. He walked closer, seeing that the engines had fallen silent and the thing in the corner had solidified…

…into a _police box._

He sighed. "If this is the interns' idea of a joke, they're doing a lousy job of it." Sunder knocked on the door. "Alright, very funny. Open up."

The door opened. Rather than an intern, it was PC Khan who popped her head out. "At least we ended up in the right place." She nodded at Sunder. "Hello, Sergeant. Sorry it took so long."

"It's one thirty in the _afternoon,_ Yaz," he told her, checking his watch. "I hadn't heard from you in several hours."

"Phone died," she explained. Her expression became serious. "You might want to call an ambulance."

 _The Dane is probably with her._ "I'll pop inside and check on whoever's hurt," he told her. Yaz opened the door fully, stepping aside. "Be my guest, sir."

Sunder walked inside the police box, jaw dropping as he saw both Yaz's police vehicle and another car inside, with plenty of room to spare, along with some sort of strange console in the centre of the room.

"All of this is inside a _police box?_ " he asked, stunned. "It's smaller on the outside…"

"Never mind that right now, Sergeant," Yaz said seriously. "We've got two people who say they've found a corpse, and they are probably in shock by the experience, and we've also got a malnourished male in his mid-thirties who _really_ needs medical attention, and—" she faltered.

Sunder's eyebrow raised. "And what, PC Khan?"

She gulped. "It's best if you see it yourself, sir."

Yaz led him to a group of people leaning on her police vehicle. Sunder saw an older white man comforting a young black man, another man—likely in his mid-thirties—who looked seriously worse for wear—without a doubt it had to be the Dane—and, on the ground, a blonde woman—likely early-to-mid-thirties—who had a few ugly lacerations on her neck, along with equally bad patterns of bruising. Unsurprisingly, she was _not_ conscious.

Sunder checked her pulse, worried. Her skin was cold, but there was the familiar _lub-dub_ of a heartbeat emitting from her jugular vein. "She's still with us." He turned to Yaz. "I'll be right back." He turned around, exiting the strange police box, grabbing his mobile and a blood pressure monitor. He returned, checking the blonde woman's blood pressure.

The readings were impossibly high.

He turned to the older man. "Do you know this woman?"

"Yeah," he responded. "The four of us are mates." He gestured to himself, Yaz, and the younger man.

"Is she on any blood pressure medication?"

"No," Yaz responded.

 _Oh, boy._ "Well, I have no idea how the hell she's _alive_ with those kinds of readings."

The younger man shrugged. "Well, she's got two hearts."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sunder scoffed. "She's a human being; she only has _one_ heart."

"That's just it, Officer," the older man said, face straight. "She's not human."

Sunder turned to Yaz. "Are they joking?"

"I'm afraid not, Sergeant," she admitted. "See for yourself."

He frowned, sceptical, but checked anyway, using the arterial veins in her wrist this time. He checked the left wrist, finding a pulse as expected. Sunder then did the same for her right—

And found another pulse.

"Okay," he said slowly, "You were right." Sunder pointed to the Dane. "I'm still calling EMT for _him_ though." He gestured to the other two men. "You two will have to provide a statement about what you know about the deceased person you found. Leave out no detail, no matter how bizarre it might seem."

They nodded.

"PC Khan," Sunder addressed his underling, attempting to remain calm. "You've got some explaining to do."

Yaz gestured to the blonde. "Basically, she's an alien, this is her spaceship—she calls it the TARDIS—and it happens to look like an old police box for some reason."

"How did you meet her?"

"She crashed into a train," the older man responded.

Sunder raised an eyebrow. "Is this true?"

"Yes, sir," Yaz responded.

Sunder sighed. "And I thought Cardiff was the only one that ended up with aliens." He looked up. "It doesn't matter right now; she's hurt. I'm going to call an ambulance, but you must understand that, since they will need to look over other injured persons while they're here, I can't tell them about the fact that your friend is an alien. I don't want her being shipped off to Area Fifty-One or something and being dissected. You know how unpredictable the Americans have been lately." He gestured to the two relatively unhurt men. "You two help the Dane out of here and into a chair. Yaz and I will bring the alien into another room." Sunder winced. "When the poor woman wakes up, she will likely be in for quite a fright, given what had happened to her."

"What about her injuries?" the black man enquired.

"I'll make sure they are treated," the Sergeant reassured him. He turned around, contacting EMT, explaining what he could to them. He realised that what he could say about the blonde woman was very limited, so he just told the person on the other end, "…and we've also got a woman, early-to-mid thirties, with lacerations and bruising on her neck. I checked her pulse and her blood pressure at the station; she's unconscious, but I think she'll be alright once she wakes up." Sunder got off the phone, turning back to Yaz. "Okay, just what the hell _happened_ in Stafford?"

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "You probably won't believe me, Sergeant, but there were angel statues…except they weren't statues. Not when they weren't looking."

 _Statues that weren't statues…I might not understand what is going on, but that sounds a lot like Wester Drumlins. And it does explain how so many people have been disappearing lately._ The Sergeant straightened. "At this point…I might actually be inclined to believe you, Constable."

Yaz's eyes widened, surprise all over her face. "Sir?!"

"Remember how I told you the night shift in Sheffield was out of the ordinary?" She nodded. The Sergeant continued. "This appears to be one of those times when it gets _really_ out of the ordinary." He gestured to the others. "EMT's going to be here in a few minutes. Get him out of here and over by my desk. I'll get your details shortly."

"What about the Doctor?" the black man asked.

 _Doctor?_ "We'll get her somewhere safe," Yaz told him.

"Don't just stand there!" Sunder snapped at him. "Get a shift on, you two!"

They got the Dane out of the police box—the TARDIS, he corrected himself. Sunder scooped the blonde woman up in his arms, glancing at Yaz. "Is she _really_ a doctor?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

He looked up. "And I thought this day couldn't get any stranger."

* * *

OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE

"How much farther?" the Brigadier asked, frowning. They had been walking for a while, and though they were alone, he had the funny feeling that they were being watched.

"It's going to be a while," Addeis responded. She stopped, eyes narrowing as she turned around. "Do you feel that?"

"I definitely feel _some_ thing," Lethbridge-Stewart admitted.

"Good or bad?"

Lethbridge-Stewart pulled out his pistol. "Put it this way, Scout: It's not the good kind."

Movement from behind a large rock formation caught his eye. Lethbridge-Stewart turned the safety off as he pointed his weapon in front of him. "All right," he said calmly. "We know you're here. Show yourself."

"You are in no position to be making demands," a familiar mechanical voice rebuked him. It was both droning and…mad, for lack of a better term.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," the Brigadier countered, his patience wearing thin. He glanced beside him, noticing Addeis getting agitated.

"You are _not_ my Commander."

The Brigadier felt a vein bulging in his neck. "Are you _trying_ to be difficult? Why don't you be civilised and come on out!" _It just_ had _to be a fucking Dalek._ Addeis, meanwhile, readied her weapon.

A figure finally emerged from the crag. The Brigadier cursed as it came into view. "Goddamn it."

"We should run," Addeis said grimly.

"Running is unnecessary," the Dalek droned. "You will be destroyed."

The Brigadier scoffed. "Says the one who looks like a salt shaker."

The Dalek readied its weapon. "EXTERMINATE!"

"Get down!" Addeis screamed.

The Brigadier ducked, feeling searing heat just centimetres above his cap. He gulped. "That is one angry salt shaker."

"That's a _Dalek,_ you moron!" Addeis scolded him.

 _No shit that's a Dalek._ "I'm well aware of that."

"Well, if your intent was to piss it off, you're doing a good job." She fired her own gun. The Dalek screamed, and the Brigadier heard the sound of something exploding nearby, followed by ringing in his ears.

 _Damn it. I must have been too close._

"ALISTAIR!"

The voice sounded muffled, but he knew it was Addeis. He turned, seeing the Obsidinite running towards him. As for whatever she was saying next… The Brigadier shook his head. "I CAN'T HEAR A WORD YOU'RE SAYING," he shouted.

Addeis facepalmed. "IT SHOULD ONLY BE TEMPORARY," she hollered back. "WE SHOULD KEEP MOVING."

The Brigadier frowned. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE DALEK?"

"I KILLED IT," Addeis responded. She tossed him a weapon. "I TOOK OUT ITS GUN; YOU'LL HAVE MORE OF A CHANCE AGAINST THE DALEKS WITH THEIR OWN WEAPONRY."

"BUT WHAT ABOUT _YOUR_ GUN?" the Brigadier asked, curious.

"IT'S ISOMETRIC, MEANING ONLY I WILL BE ABLE TO USE IT," the Obsidinite explained, even though the Brigadier was only able to comprehend some of what she was talking about. "SO DON'T GET ANY IDEAS," she added.

 _I wasn't going to,_ the Brigadier thought. He glanced up, seeing Addeis gesturing for him to follow. He sighed, not daring to let go of his weapon.

 _Doctor, when I find you, you've got a lot of explaining to do._

Wordlessly, Lethbridge-Stewart followed his uneasy ally deeper into the battlefield.

* * *

The Doctor's eyes opened, and the first feeling that came into the Time Lord's mind was one of absolute panic.

 _This isn't the castle._

She sat bolt upright, eyes wide. The Doctor looked at her surroundings as her vision adjusted, revealing a room with soft lighting. The window's blinds were open, and she heard the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside, hard against the pane. As her senses became more focused, she heard the sound of a radio playing the ending part of a Beatles song, immediately followed by an advertisement for Spotify Premium.

"Okay," she told herself, surprised to hear her voice come out soft and cracked. Her throat was sore. She put a hand on her neck, feeling medical-grade bandages. "Definitely twenty-first century." Which likely meant that the Angel had sent her through space rather than time. Not that she was complaining; she at least had a chance to find her fam once she got out of here—wherever _here_ was. She looked down, seeing a medical blanket covering her. So far, she seemed to be okay—the only thing missing was her coat. And her bum bag. She glanced up, seeing the latter item on a nearby table.

The door opened, startling the Doctor. She looked up, seeing a bearded police officer alongside a dog.

 _Relax,_ the dog told her. _We mean you no harm._

"Well that's good," she responded.

The officer raised an eyebrow, looking at the dog before looking back at her. "Were you talking to the dog?"

 _My name's Jeff,_ the dog told her.

"Yeah, of course I was talking to Jeff," she told him.

"How did you know his name was Jeff?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I speak dog."

He snorted. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Very seriously." The Doctor looked closer at Jeff. "Police dog, isn't he?"

The bearded officer nodded. "Yep. Not mine, though; his partner's in a meeting, so she asked me to keep an eye on this one until it's done." He knelt down on the ground, facing her directly. "How are you feeling, ma'am?"

"Lost," she admitted, head in her hands. "I don't know where I am, or what time it is."

"Madam. Look at me."

The Doctor looked up, seeing the bearded officer. "You're at the Hallamshire Police Precinct in Sheffield. It is currently—" he checked his watch "—seven fifty-nine in the evening." He shook his head. "Quite frankly, you're lucky that PC Khan brought you here when she did. We got EMT to treat your neck, but—"

 _PC Khan?!_ "Yaz?!" she asked, eyes wide. "Yasmin Khan? Is she alright? Is everyone—" She coughed violently, clutching her throat. _Ugh, that_ really _hurts!_

"She's alright," he reassured her. "So are Ryan Sinclair and Graham O'Brien. Rasmus Hansen is in hospital, but he'll be fine in a few days."

 _I don't know anyone by that name, but I'm just glad Yaz was able to get him out of there, whoever he is._ She opened her mouth to speak, but the bearded officer cut her off. "You need to save your strength, madam. You sustained some nasty bruising on your neck. I'm surprised you're even breathing."

"Respiratory bypass system," she explained. "Comes in handy sometimes."

He stood, stroking his beard. "Respiratory _bypass…_ " He looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, you're definitely an alien."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Who told you?"

"Yaz. It was a good thing, too, otherwise we would've had to resort to drastic measures to keep EMT from messing around with things that shouldn't be messed with." He smiled gently. "Don't worry; your secret's safe with me."

"And you are?"

He knelt back down, extending a hand. "Sergeant Ramesh Sunder, Hallamshire Police; Yaz's boss."

 _Yaz's boss. I think I can trust him._ She shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Ramesh Sunder. I'm the Doctor."

He let go. "So I heard." Sunder raised an eyebrow. "Doctor who?"

She smiled, laughing gently so her throat would be less irritated. _He asked THE question!_ "Just the Doctor."

"You must get that question quite a lot."

She grinned. "Oh, mate. You have no idea."

Sunder changed the subject, handing her a bottle of water. "Drink; you're probably dehydrated."

The Time Lord took the beverage, grateful for the smooth taste of the water even as she became aware of just how dry her throat was. She capped it after a few sips. "Thank you."

Sunder nodded. "I'm going to have to check your eyes; just standard procedure." He held a light up to her pupils, checking the left one first. "Okay, so far so good." He moved to check the right one, eyes narrowing. "That's…unusual." He pulled back after a short second, a puzzled expression on his face.

The Doctor frowned. "Everything all right?"

"Hopefully," Sunder said, though he didn't look certain one way or the other. "In any case, Doctor, you should probably get yourself checked out, just in case you suffered any neurological damage from whatever attacked you."

"I'll be fine," she dismissed. _The last time I went to a Terran Emergency Room for something serious, I ended up regenerating in the morgue. I'm not anxious to repeat the experience._

Sunder frowned. "All right," he said, clearly unconvinced. "Take it easy for a few days. If you feel there's _anything_ wrong, please go see a doctor other than yourself."

The Doctor nodded. Sunder left the room, and the Time Lord considered her situation. She was alive, thanks to her companions. But the real question was, why did the Angel let her go?

"Doctor?"

She turned, seeing Ryan at the door. Behind him were Graham, Yaz, and Sunder. She smiled. "Hello."

Yaz ran over to her, concerned. "How are you feeling, Doctor?"

"To be blunt," the Time Lord responded, voice softening. "I feel so bloody _awful._ "

The constable held up her hands. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

The Doctor blinked. "Ten," she said automatically.

Yaz nodded, satisfied. "She's good."

Sunder frowned. "Okay," he said slowly. "But she should seriously take it easy for a few days."

"We'll keep an eye on her," Graham reassured him.

"All right." Sunder checked his watch. "I've got to go to a meeting, so I'll leave you lot here with Jeff and PC Khan for a bit. But don't leave the premises until after I get back."

"Yes, sir," Yaz acknowledged.

Sunder closed the door behind him. Jeff put his head on the Doctor's lap. The Time Lord stroked the canine—a Belgian Malinois, she identified after a closer look—giving his ears a good rub as she looked up at her family. "How did I get here?"

"TARDIS," Yaz explained. "As soon as we were all inside, we got the hell out of there." She frowned. "The TARDIS flew by itself."

The Doctor smiled wanly. "She does that sometimes." She let out a soft sigh of relief. _The Angel didn't send me anywhere. I'm safe._

"Doctor?" Ryan asked, concern in his voice. "What did this to you, mate?"

The Doctor took a breath, prepared to answer, only to have another coughing bout. Graham handed her the water bottle, and she took another several sips.

"Was it that angel statue?" Ryan asked.

The Doctor's eyes widened mid-sip. _Oh, no. They_ did _run into it!_

"Let the woman breathe, Ryan," Graham said sternly.

The Doctor swallowed, gasping. "He's right."

"Which one of us?" Ryan asked.

"You," she retorted. She looked away. "It looks as though we stumbled into its feeding ground."

Yaz bit her lip. "Actually, Doctor, I saw more than one. But they were all crowded around a mirror when I got there."

 _Small miracles. I love small miracles._ "Good," the Time Lord responded. "They couldn't move."

"But—" The young constable frowned. "What did you mean, 'feeding ground?'"

She sighed. _I knew I'd have to tell them eventually._ "Those statues…they're not exactly statues."

"We know," Ryan butted in. "They move when you blink."

 _That makes the conversation a lot shorter._ "That's the gist of it," she said slowly. She kept one hand on Jeff's hide to steady herself. _But shorter does not always make it better_. The Doctor gave her companions a hard look. "Weeping Angels," she said, voice quiet but filled with a familiar sense of rage and guilt. _Amy. Rory._ "Arguably one of the deadliest predators in the known universe—and also the only psychopaths that kill you nicely. Most of the time." Jeff put his head on her chest, clearly sensing her unease, and the Time Lord stroked the police dog's head gently for a few seconds before continuing. "They feed off a person's time energy. One touch, if they're hungry, and you get a one-way ticket into the past and live to death." She stroked Jeff's head one more time before looking directly at her family. Her voice cracked. "I lost more than one friend that way."

"I guess that Weeping Angel _wasn't_ hungry when it killed that bloke and almost killed _you_ ," Graham remarked grimly.

 _Good point._ "Not likely," the Doctor admitted. Her eyes narrowed. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say that it used that bloke to lure in more of his officers and have other Angels send them into the past."

"And then it killed him," Ryan finished, though erroneously.

The Doctor shook her head. "No, Ryan. It killed him _beforehand_ and re-animated a version of his consciousness to communicate with his squad." She frowned. "That's why his spine was ripped out the way it was."

Ryan backed up, evidently nauseated. "I think I might need to throw up again."

"Trash can's in the corner," Yaz told him.

Ryan nodded, walking in the proffered direction. The sound of dry heaving was heard a moment later.

"Was it really _that_ gross?" Yaz asked.

"Yes," Graham and the Doctor responded in unison.

Yaz frowned. "What makes you so certain the bloke was police?"

"His uniform said, 'Staffordshire Police' on it," the Doctor explained. "I took his police radio off him and put it on the TARDIS console."

"I'll let the Serge know about it when he gets back."

"Thanks, Yaz." The Doctor coughed again. Fortunately, the pain wasn't so bad this time. "So…"

Yaz frowned. "I know what you're probably thinking, Doctor, and the answer is no. We are not going on _any_ adventures until you are healed. _You_ are staying put until the three of us say otherwise."

 _That wasn't even remotely what I was thinking, but that's good to know._ "Yes, ma'am."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to a random pub tune playing on Spotify. Ryan walked back over during that time, grabbing a few tissues off a desk, wiping his mouth before lobbing them into the trash can. All tissues landed inside.

"Nice," Graham acknowledged.

The Doctor held the blanket tightly, looking down at Jeff. The dog's head perked up, nuzzling the Time Lord gently. _You're strange,_ he said. _But this is a good strange._

The Doctor frowned. "For a police dog, you sure are affectionate, aren't you, boy?"

 _What, you think I work my tail off all day without any breaks?_ he retorted.

"Fair enough."

Yaz looked at the Doctor uneasily. "You might want to get some more rest."

"I'll be fine, Yaz," she dismissed.

The constable raised an eyebrow. "You're conversing with a dog."

Jeff's eyes narrowed. _I converse with you bipeds all the time, yet_ you _don't complain!_

The Doctor rubbed the canine's ears. " _Oh,_ quit sulking. They don't always choose to listen. That's normal."

"You're doing it again, Doctor."

The Doctor looked back up at her companions. "What? I speak dog."

Graham flitted a glance in Yaz's direction. "You might want to have your boss to do another concussion check."

The Doctor pulled a face. "My brain's _fine,_ Graham."

Ryan knelt down in front of the Time Lord, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Doctor, please do yourself a favour, and shut up." The Doctor opened her mouth, ready to protest, but he cut her off before a word could get out. "Your throat will heal faster."

 _He's got a point, you know._ The Doctor sighed, nodding in surrender.

Ryan moved backwards, evidently satisfied, opting to lean against the wall instead. "Any idea how long we'll be in here?"

Yaz shrugged. The Doctor cradled the police dog in her arms, taking careful note of how lucky they were to have escaped from the Angels alive. She looked up, focusing her senses on the pitter-patter of the rain outside, even as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 _"Look, next time, could we just go to the pub?" Rory asked._

 _The Eleventh Doctor grinned. "I could go to the pub right now! Are there video games there? I love video games."_

 _River nodded, satisfied. "Right. Family outing, then!"_

 _The Doctor and his wife went to open the TARDIS, the former thinking about how much fun they were going to have togeth-_

 _Amy screamed. The Doctor's hearts sank in dread. He turned, seeing a Weeping Angel standing exactly where Rory Williams had been seconds earlier._

" _Where the hell did that come from?" River asked, fear in her voice._

" _It's a survivor," the Doctor realised. "Very weak. Keep your eyes on it."_

 _Amy frowned. "Where's Rory?"_

 _The Doctor looked down at the headstone, breath catching as it hit him that his father-in-law was gone for good. "I'm sorry, Amelia. I'm so, so sorry."_

 _Amy shook her head, still in denial, even going so far as to suggest creating a second paradox, only to be met with heated opposition from both her daughter and the Doctor._

 _She straightened. "That gravestone—Rory's. There's room for one more name, isn't there?"_

 _The Doctor looked at her, horrified, the feeling increasing hundredfold as River agreed with her mother on the ginger's suicidal plan._

 _Amy looked at the Angel, devastated, ignoring the Time Lord's pleas for her to join him and River in the TARDIS._

 _"Melody?" she asked, voice trembling as River kissed her hand. "You be a good girl, and you look after him."_

 _"Amy!" the Doctor protested, losing his composure completely. "Please, just come back into the TARDIS! Come along, Pond. PLEASE!"_

 _Amy walked forward, standing until she was directly in front of the Angel. She took a deep breath. The Doctor watched in horror, knowing exactly what she was about to do, unable to stop her._

 _"Raggedy Man."_

 _Amelia Pond turned around, looking at her son-in-law and her daughter, steeling herself as she looked at the former for the last time. "Goodbye."_

* * *

 _"AMY! RORY!"_

The Thirteenth Doctor screamed, larynx protesting as she opened her eyes, tears covering her face. She hyperventilated, looking up—

And right into the face of a police dog.

Jeff barked, nuzzling her. _Significant increase in heart rate detected. Hyperventilation is not good. Have to get help._ He barked again, louder and more insistently.

The Doctor coughed, both the physical and psychological pain becoming almost unbearable. _Why that nightmare? Why now?_

She continued to hyperventilate, the coughing bout turning into a chilling rattle, terrifying her even more than the realisation that she had just relived that horrible moment in 2012 New York. The door forced itself open, but the Doctor didn't feel like looking to see who had just come back in. A few frantic voices and unfamiliar hands forcing her to sit up gave the Doctor the conclusion that they were Hallamshire Police Officers, ones that were neither Yaz nor Sunder.

"Madam!" A woman. "Madam, please, you need to take a deep breath and calm down!"

 _I'm not in Manhattan. That was so many years ago. I'm in Sheffield. It's 2019. I almost ended up with my throat ripped out by a Weeping Angel._ The Doctor knew that last part wouldn't help her calm down, but it was enough for her to start thinking rationally again. She forced herself to obey the officer, slowing down her breathing at a slow rate until she could calm down.

"What in the name of sanity is _going on_ here?!"

The Doctor turned, seeing Sunder at the door. The woman who had spoken straightened. "She was exhibiting symptoms of a panic attack, sir."

"Well, give her some space, then!" the Sergeant retorted. "The last thing she needs is to be smothered by a bunch of other human beings!"

The officers backed off. Sunder sent them away, thanking them for their intervention before shutting the door.

The Doctor looked up at him gratefully, having calmed down enough to talk. "Thanks for covering for me."

"Don't mention it." He sighed. "Those three _clearly_ need to work on their medical training."

"They'll get it eventually," the Doctor rasped. She scanned the room, frowning when she didn't see who she wanted to see. "Graham? Ryan?"

"They're in the cafeteria," Sunder reassured her.

"Yaz?"

"She was summoned to the meeting about an hour ago," he explained. "I'm technically supposed to be in there right now, but I had to take a quick bathroom break."

"And this happened right after," the Time Lord guessed.

"Pretty much."

The Doctor looked right at him. "Sorry…that doesn't usually happen."

Sunder sighed. "I'm not surprised that it _did,_ actually. You got strangled by a stone angel and left for dead. That's how Yaz put it, anyway."

"That explains a lot." The Doctor coughed, her throat hurting terribly. Sunder noticed, frowning. "And you, madam, need to let your vocal cords and the rest of your throat heal." He stood. "I have to go back to the meeting. I'll have PC Khan get you some tea with honey. Is ginger okay with you? I can put some in chamomile."

"Great," the Doctor responded.

Sunder nodded, leaving. The door shut behind him. The Time Lord held the blanket around her, at a loss for words concerning what had just happened. _Manhattan…I thought those nightmares had passed by now. Apparently not._ She closed her eyes, the faces of Amy and Rory fresh in her mind.

 _Don't sit around doing nothing, Raggedy Man,_ Amy's voice said in the Time Lord's mind, scolding her. _Come on. Get up, you moron._

The Doctor sighed. _Do I have to?_

 _You know how Amy is when she's cross, Doctor,_ Rory's voice responded. _I'd advise listening to her._

The Time Lord pulled a face. "Rory the Roman," she whispered aloud. "I guess you do have a valid point…even if you are a voice in my head now."

She stood, walking to the window. The soft pitter-patter of rain outside made her smile, even though it was a sad one. The Doctor was aware of Jeff behind her, the canine keeping watch in case she somehow managed to lose control again.

"What would you do, Amelia?" she whispered. "You and Rory?"

 _What you always do,_ Amy responded.

 _Minus the part where you go "Geronimo" and do something so completely dangerous,_ Rory retorted. _You heard Yasmin, Doctor. No more dangerous stuff until you're healed._

"Doctor?"

The Time Lord's head perked up. Amy's and Rory's presences faded from her mind as she turned, seeing Yaz with a cup of tea. She nodded, taking the cup from her friend. "Thanks, Yaz."

Yaz frowned, concern in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Better than I was earlier. Why?"

The constable shrugged. "The Serge said you had a panic attack."

 _Right. That._ The Time Lord deflated. "It was a nightmare. I don't want to talk about it," she added quickly, knowing that her friend was likely to ask.

"Fair enough," Yaz responded. She raised an eyebrow. "By the way, the Chief Inspector has requested that you move your TARDIS out of the office space. He said something about my police vehicle still being in there. I kind of have to get it out eventually."

 _Yaz's police car is in my ship?_ "When did that happen?" she asked.

"While you were unconscious and we were running for our lives," Yaz deadpanned.

"But who brought up the TARDIS?"

"The Serge." Yaz smirked. "The Chief Inspector thought he was bluffing, but we all took a trip over and showed him otherwise."

The Doctor looked at her, unamused.

Yaz sighed. "Fine. If you must know—"

"And I must."

"My superiors were looking for my car, and they needed the radio you recovered."

"And you thought that it would be a good idea to show the inside of my ship to a few strangers when I wasn't around," the Doctor muttered, annoyed.

"I wasn't particularly keen about getting fired if I didn't," Yaz retorted. "Besides, they didn't go inside. They just poked their heads in and did a double take."

The Doctor took a sip of her tea. _That might have been a little too much ginger,_ she thought, sticking her tongue out in disgust. _Still, it's not intolerable._ "How did the Chief Inspector take it?"

"Surprisingly, he was okay with it," Yaz admitted. "He said that, quote, 'It makes the place livelier', end quote. But he still wants you to move it; I don't know if you'll be subjected to a parking ticket."

The Doctor took another mouthful of tea. "When?"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

The Doctor shrugged. "I've got time. No big deal."

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "So…you're not mad?"

She pulled a face. "There are less trivial things to be mad about, Yaz. That doesn't mean that I'm not annoyed with you at the moment. You don't know how those officers could have reacted."

"The TARDIS seemed okay with it."

The Doctor sighed, relenting. "In that case…" She faltered, placing a hand on her forehead. Her vision swayed for a second, nausea making itself known. Yaz noticed, grabbing her friend's torso to steady her. "Take it easy," she whispered. "I'll bring a chair over."

The Doctor nodded, refocusing her attention on the window. She placed her free hand gently on her throat, once again feeling both the bandages and the chill of how close she had come to possibly dying.

She frowned. _Damned Angels. You just had to get clever, didn't you?_

A hand on her shoulder jolted the Time Lord out of her bitterness. She turned, seeing Yaz behind her. "This way, Doctor."

Yaz led her to a seat with casters on the bottom. The Doctor allowed herself a small smile. _Casters! They're so fun!_ Ordinarily, at least. She sat down, taking another swig of tea.

Yaz, however, looked downtrodden.

The Doctor's brow furrowed, concerned for her friend. _She's not just worried about me,_ she realised. _There's something else._ "What's on your mind, Yaz?" she asked, voice cracking. _At least it's a bit stronger this time._

The constable sighed. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," the Doctor retorted. "And, no, I'm _not_ using that term lightly."

Yaz glared at her, saying nothing. The Doctor returned the glare, annoyed. _Come on, Yaz. It's not going to do any of us good if you keep your mouth shut about this._ Yaz sighed, clearly realising that there was no easy way out of this one. "You know what, Doctor?" the constable's voice had the tell-tale sign that she was close to tears, but that she was bitter about something as well. "You might think this is easy to talk about, but it isn't. If I hadn't taken this case, Ryan wouldn't be puking all over the place, and you wouldn't have gotten hurt—"

"And more people would have died," the Doctor interrupted her sternly.

Yaz looked away, chastened.

The Doctor stood, putting a hand on her companion's shoulder. "Look," she said gently. "None of this was your fault. We'll all bounce back from this. I promise."

Yaz nodded, but she still didn't look reassured. A knock on the door saved either of them from continuing the conversation. The Doctor glanced over, seeing Graham and Ryan in the entryway, along with a brunette officer with a K9 vest.

"The Sergeant said we could go," Ryan informed them.

The Doctor gave him a brisk nod. She finished her tea, throwing the cup in the disposal afterward. She folded the blanket, placing it on the chair before squatting down to scratch Jeff's ears.

"Thanks for watching out for me, boy," she whispered gratefully.

 _I'm just doing my job,_ the dog responded.

"Come on, Doc!" Graham called.

The Time Lord straightened, slowly making her way to the TARDIS. She opened the door, allowing her companions to file in ahead of her. The Doctor walked inside, closing the door behind her.

A familiar sound chilled her to the bone.

The others clearly heard it, too. "Uh, Doctor?" Ryan asked. "What's that noise?"

She ran to the console, although her body protested the sudden burst of movement, and she slowed to a walk instead. "Cloister bells," she explained, dread in her voice.

"Which are?" Yaz asked, worried.

"The alarms." The Doctor moved to switch the lever for dematerialising, but a static shock forced her to recoil her hand back. She glared at the ship. "Seriously? What's the matter with you?"

Graham walked over to her. "I've got it," he told her, pulling the lever. The TARDIS started to go on as normal, though the cloister bells still sounded.

The Doctor folded her arms. "Did anybody else notice how weird that was?"

Ryan raised his hand. Yaz shook her head. "Maybe it was just static shock, Doctor," she said simply.

"Maybe," the Time Lord responded, though she wasn't entirely convinced that was the case. Not when the cloisters were sounding. "In any case, I'll need to do some maintenance on her, just to make sure she's okay."

"Not until you're healed," Graham rebutted her.

She folded her arms. "Geez, Graham. You're not my mother."

"No," he agreed, "but I _am_ Ryan's grandfather."

"By marriage," Ryan muttered under his breath.

"Hush, you, I'm trying to make a point," Graham rebuked. He redirected his sternness the Doctor's way, gesturing to Ryan. "If _he_ was in such a state, I wouldn't let him do anything crazy until I was certain he was well enough to do so. Same goes for you, Doc. Remember what happened on the _Tsuranga?_ "

 _He's right, you know,_ Susan's voice said in her mind. The Doctor sighed. _Even my own granddaughter._ "Fine," she conceded. "I'll rest."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Author's Note: Hi, all! Uni's been busy, so I haven't updated in a while. Also, it has come to my attention that I had made major continuity errors while writing the early part of this story. I know that Doctor Who is full of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff, including alternate timelines, but this particular error regarding the dynamics between the Brigadier and the Doctor is one that cannot be ignored. As such, I am therefore updating the story so that it fits this dynamic. Chapters II, IV, V, and VI are the only chapters that will be affected. By the time I will have posted this chapter, the changes should already be posted. Thank you to all of those who have read and reviewed so far, and to Marcus S Lazarus, who has offered constructive criticism. Please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or thoughts. I am considering still doing a multi-Doctor story with 2 and 13; here, however, I feel it best that the 3rd Doctor will fit better with how I want this story to pan out.

-sousatayue

Here's Chapter VII! Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

 _OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE_

Addeis had been right about the tinnitus being temporary; Lethbridge-Stewart found his hearing had returned several minutes after the incident with the Dalek. Fortunately for both of them, no more of those things had been spotted since then.

"It's not that much farther now!" Addeis told him, pointing towards a ridge.

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded. _The sooner we find the Doctor, the better._ He matched the Obsidinite's pace as they climbed up the rock formation, a nagging thought in his mind. "How did you end up in such a long war against the Daleks, anyway?"

Addeis paused, grip tightening on her weapon. The Brigadier tensed, worried he'd said something wrong, but the Scout answered his question a moment later. "The same way that any other race ends up in a war against those things," she said simply. "Daleks despise anything that isn't a Dalek. They go so far as to exterminate entire populations and subjugate them into slavery if they're lucky. They're ruthless." She looked past him, staring at the horizon. "My people happened to be one of the few who managed to fight back, but the cost is high."

"And yet you've managed to last against them for twenty years," the Brigadier remarked. "Your people's tenacity is remarkable, I'll give you that."

Addeis looked back at him. "This isn't your first war, is it?"

He bit his lip, some of the flashbacks harrowing. "No," he responded. "It isn't. I was just a young Private when I was sent out to fight in the Korean War."

"And how long ago for you was that?"

Lethbridge-Stewart racked his brain. "A bit more than twenty years, I'd reckon." He glanced at her. _Given how she's acting, I doubt she's been fighting this war for twenty years._ "I've been in several skirmishes since then, but in terms of actual war…" He trailed off, opting to change the subject. "But enough about me, Addeis. How long have _you_ been fighting? You, individually?"

She shrugged. "On the front lines? About a year."

 _I thought so._ Lethbridge-Stewart sighed exasperatedly. "How old are you?"

She blinked. "Seventeen standard years."

The Brigadier groaned. "You poor girl."

"Don't treat me like a child!" Addeis hissed, tail lashing. The Brigadier just noticed the tail for the first time, dinosaur-like and just as reptilian as the rest of her. "War is all I've known for my entire life! And just so we're on the same page, sixteen standard years is legal adult age in this star system."

"On my world, _eighteen_ is the legal adult age," the Brigadier said sternly. "So in my eyes, you're still just a teenager."

Addeis pulled a face. "Let's move."

The two trekked in silence for a while after that. Lethbridge-Stewart did not know how much time had passed, but by the time they arrived at what Addeis had deemed to be the base it was almost nightfall. She pressed a reptilian hand on the rock, a hidden door sliding open.

"Get inside," Addeis urged. "Quickly."

Lethbridge-Stewart obeyed, following her, with the full realisation that he had just placed his life in the hands of a kid. The door shut behind him, sealing them in total darkness. "What now?" he asked.

"Stay behind me," Addeis hissed. "And keep your trap shut."

"I can't see," the Brigadier retorted.

Addeis groaned. "You humans must not be able to see in total darkness," she deduced. "Okay, fine. Just follow the sound of my tread. But be careful."

"Got it," Lethbridge-Stewart whispered.

"This way."

The two tread in the inky blackness, the only sounds being their footsteps and the occasional swishing of the Obsidinite's tail.

 _This was a bad idea,_ the Brigadier thought worriedly, feeling his way around in the darkness. _But I don't suppose there's any way out of it now._

The two kept walking in silence, Addeis only breaking it when telling the Brigadier that they were almost there…wherever _there_ was.

Lethbridge-Stewart got his answer some time later, noticing a patch of light several metres ahead. The two moved at a slightly faster pace, quickly emerging from the tunnel. Lethbridge-Stewart blinked, eyes adjusting to the lighting as he scanned the corridor. It looked like a cargo bay, filled with crates and with what looked suspiciously like a couple of military tanks.

Addeis nudged him. "Your friends are over there, safe and sound." She pointed towards a set of crates next to the furthest tank. The Brigadier peered across, noticing Benton and Yates playing some sort of card game, and Jo Grant taking a nap. The Doctor looked to be engrossed in watching the UNIT soldiers' progress.

"Thank you, Scout," he said gratefully.

Addeis straightened. "I will inform my CO of your arrival." She turned about-face, tail hitting the Brigadier on the backs of his knees and knocking him flat on his face. He stood back up, brushing himself off. The soldier glanced at his peers, noticing Yates smirking at him. Lethbridge-Stewart rolled his eyes, walking towards them. The smirk wiped right off the Captain's face.

"Brigadier in the room!" he announced, standing with a salute. Benton immediately followed his lead.

"As you were," Lethbridge-Stewart told the soldiers. Yates and Benton dropped their respective salutes. He turned to the Doctor. "I see you managed to acquaint yourself with the young Scout."

The Doctor nodded. "What did she say about me?"

"That you're eccentric and sometimes annoying," he told him.

"So, exactly like what you would have said." The Doctor stood, stretching. "I figured she would have a similar opinion."

Yates snorted. "Well it's not like you would shut up about temporal mechanics while walking for eight hours— _nonstop—_ on an alien planet."

Benton shrugged. "It's not nineteenth-century Vienna, that's for sure."

"Very funny, you two," the Doctor responded.

Lethbridge-Stewart folded his arms. "Doctor, I wasn't asking to be spirited away at two in the morning."

"Two in the morning, eight in the morning; it doesn't make a difference one way or the other," the Doctor dismissed, waving his hand. "The TARDIS does whatever she wants every now and then."

"Including dropping us off in a Dalek war zone?" the Brigadier challenged, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor frowned. "Unfortunately. That was not my intention, I assure you."

"I don't give a crap whose intention it was. You're here, and you're wanted in the briefing room. _Now._ "

The Brigadier turned, seeing Addeis behind him. "That was quick."

The Obsidinite shrugged. "My Commanding Officer was just down the hall. Wake the female and get ready to move."

* * *

"Jo? Jo, wake up."

Jo forced herself awake, looking up at the Doctor. "What's happening?" she asked, yawning.

"The Brigadier's here," he told her. "We're needed in the briefing room. Come on."

She got up from the crate, walking down a hall alongside the Doctor and the soldiers. Jo glanced around the corridor, in awe at how sophisticated the facility was.

"Miss Grant?"

Jo redirected a glance towards Lethbridge-Stewart. "Yes, Brigadier?"

"I find it hard to believe that these people accepted you all without question," the Brigadier said sceptically. "Are you sure you're—"

"Not to worry, Brigadier," the Doctor butted in. "We're quite alright."

Jo nodded, recalling how the Obsidinites had surrounded the TARDIS, mistaking it for a new Dalek weapon. They only stood down once she had told them—albeit somewhat desperately—that they had a doctor on board.

"There was some misunderstanding at first," Jo admitted. "Once I told them about the Doctor, they decided it was in their best interests to hear us out."

Yates snorted. "Yeah, but only _after_ they scanned us with something and determined that we weren't Dalek puppets, whatever the hell those are."

"People infected by Dalek nanogenes and partially converted into Daleks," the Doctor supplied.

Jo shuddered, sickened by the mental imagery that came into her mind. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing that, Doctor."

"That's just the reality of it, Jo," the Doctor responded. "As far as I know, the nanogenes are only present in Dalek prisons, so we should be fine so long as we don't get captured."

 _Wonderful._ "I was under the impression Daleks didn't take prisoners."

"Most of the time, they don't," Addeis told her. "But when they do—well, in my opinion, those poor people were better off being exterminated." The Obsidinite stopped in front of a set of doors. "On that cheerful note," she muttered, voice heavy with sarcasm, "we're here."

She opened the doors. Jo followed the others inside, eyes widening at the advanced technology that resided within. Addeis broke away from the group, stopping in front of a taller, heavily decorated Obsidinite man.

"General Matri," she acknowledged, saluting. "I bring you the Time Lord and his crew." The Obsidinite gestured to the Doctor, Jo, Lethbridge-Stewart, Yates, and Benton, respectively.

The General turned towards them, nodding approvingly. "You did well, Scout." He pushed a button on the console, closing the doors. "ATTENTION!"

The Obsidinite soldiers straightened. "At ease," the General said, his soldiers obeying the command. "Let us begin."

* * *

"Now that you all are here," General Matri addressed them, "I would like to outline the next stage of our fight against the Daleks."

Addeis leaned towards Benton. "If it's anything like the past fifteen hundred plans—"

"Do you have something to say to the _rest_ of us, Scout?" Matri asked.

Addeis straightened. "With all due respect, sir, when are you going to execute a plan that won't get so many of us killed?"

"May I speak?" the Doctor asked. The Obsidinite General nodded. "Unfortunately, young one, that's just the reality of fighting against the Daleks. One hit from those lasers and you're finished. People are going to die either way."

"Surely there must be some way to save more lives!" Addeis protested, slamming a fist on the console. "How much longer can we go on like this, watching our people die in this pointless war?!"

"Fighting to protect those you love is _not_ pointless, young one!" the Doctor rebuked her sternly.

"It is when you know that the only thing that's going to happen is that you will watch them die at the hands of monsters!" she snarled.

"That is not a guarantee!"

"What do you know of guarantees here, Time Lord?" Addeis challenged. "You've only been on this planet for less than a standard day! You haven't had to watch my people suffer and die at the hands of—"

"ENOUGH!"

Both heated individuals turned to the General, whom Benton noticed looked somewhat pissed off. "Am I not allowed to conduct a briefing without having to listen to uncivilised insolence?"

The Doctor looked away. "My apologies, General."

Addeis glared at him, tail lashing furiously.

Matri glanced at her, having also noticed the nonverbal cues. "Addeis, you are dismissed until you can approach this situation with a clearer head."

The Obsidinite's eyes widened. "But—"

The General's eyes narrowed. Benton placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic look. "It's best not to argue, kid."

Addeis shoved herself out of Benton's grasp, stalking out of the room. The Sergeant exchanged a confused glance with Yates, who merely shrugged.

Matri sighed. "Now, then. Let us continue."

The briefing went on for another hour—or what looked to be an hour, based on the clock on the wall—without much further incident, but Benton could tell that it wasn't just Addeis and the Doctor who were getting agitated. Benton narrowly avoided being slapped in the face by some of the Obsidinites' tails several times, and he got quite a few awkward stares during the session's relatively short bathroom break sometime later.

 _No, I don't have a tail. But this really isn't the best place to be judgemental, fellas._

Benton washed up, following everyone back to the briefing room. People seemed to be feeling a bit better, and the Obsidinite General had evidently decided that Addeis had calmed down enough to be let back inside when Benton saw her stand next to him. The doors closed, and the session was reconvened.

* * *

 _FIVE HOURS LATER…_

The Doctor shook his head exasperatedly as he exited the briefing room. They had been in there most of the night, and the only thing that had been accomplished was the TARDIS crew's conscription into the war. Benton, Lethbridge-Stewart, and Yates had been assigned to the front lines as military advisors due to their battlefield experience. Jo had been sent to work in Tactical and Intelligence.

As for the Doctor…he had been sent to sickbay. It was rather fitting, though the Time Lord's hearts hurt for his companions.

 _Lethbridge-Stewart. Benton. Yates. Jo. I am so sorry I dragged all of you into this._

None of them were strangers to fighting the Daleks. But the Doctor grimly noted that the more times he encountered the creatures, the more murderous they became.

Chills went up the Time Lord's spine as he walked the long corridors to the medical wing. He heard faint whispers, but when he turned around, pausing briefly, he saw no-one.

The Doctor shook his head, sighing as he resumed his trek. _It's probably the hydraulics—assuming this place even has hydraulics, that is._

He eventually found his destination, walking inside, somewhat unsurprised to discover it was mostly empty.

"That's the thing with fighting the Daleks," he whispered. "Not many people who are wounded come back alive."

The Time Lord was then approached by an ancient-looking medical droid. "Do you require assistance, sir?"

"No, thank you," the Doctor told the robot. "General Matri sent me here."

The robot tilted its head to the side. "So you _do_ require assistance!"

The Doctor pulled a face, annoyed. " _No,_ I tell you, I don't."

"Then tell me why you are here. Unless…you are lost?"

The Time Lord facepalmed. "No, you incompetent piece of scrap metal, I am not lost. And before you activate your vocabulary box again, no, I do not need medical assistance!"

A medical technician ran over to them, placing a hand on the robot's shoulder as she directed her gaze towards the Doctor. "My apologies, sir," the Obsidinite woman said hastily. "Z-1 can be a bit obnoxious sometimes."

"I can see that," the Time Lord deadpanned.

The technician frowned. "Was there a particular reason you stopped by?"

 _Finally. Someone who actually knows what the hell they are doing._ The Doctor straightened. "Yes, there is. I was just conscripted into the war effort; General Matri sent me here."

The technician's eyes widened. "Oh—so _you're_ the doctor we were told to expect?"

"That's correct."

" _Oh,_ for fuck's sake, why does it have to be with _him?_ " the robot complained.

The technician frowned. "Z-1, when was the last time you had a recharge?"

"My last charging cycle was at 0700 two weeks ago. Battery is currently at nineteen percent."

"Then I suggest you rectify that before your next shift."

"Yes, Erida." The robot walked off into a nearby corridor, turning into a hallway that the Doctor could not make out. The technician sighed. "Sorry. He gets cranky when his battery's low."

"That's quite alright," the Doctor reassured her. "Erida, wasn't it?"

"Yes," the woman responded. "We'll need to get a sample of your DNA to keep on record. Standard procedure. Is that okay with you, Doctor…?"

"Just 'the Doctor,'" he said, waving a hand. "And if it is standard procedure, then I think it would be remiss of me to decline."

Erida nodded, handing him a tablet and a stylus. "You will need to sign this consent form and confidentiality agreement. Once you've finished, you'll swipe left to the next document and fill out some paperwork—just standard personal information," she explained upon seeing the Time Lord's dismayed expression. "It shouldn't take more than five to ten minutes."

"Okay," the Doctor sighed, accepting the devices. "Is there anywhere—"

Erida pointed to a chair next to what appeared to be a receptionist's desk. "There's fine."

The Time Lord ultimately finished the paperwork around—according to the chronometer on the tablet—eight minutes later, though there was some information he could not disclose (his true name, for starters, so he simply put "the Doctor" and hoped for the best). He handed it to Erida, who raised an eyebrow.

"You're Gallifreyan?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," the Doctor responded. "I assume the General told you that earlier."

Erida shook her head. "No; all he said was that we were to expect a doctor, meaning you." Her tail twitched. "So, what kind of a doctor are you? A medical one, right?"

"Oh, yes," he confirmed. "I am also a doctor of many other things."

"The only thing I'm concerned with is the medical aspect of your specialties," Erida told him. She entered some information into the tablet, looking back up at him a moment later. "Your shift starts tomorrow morning at 1100. The full shift schedule will be on-screen here in Reception. You will clock in and out using Bioscan 1 or 2, both of which are located here." The Obsidinite pointed at two devices attached to the desk. "Doctors' barracks are located in the Northeast wing of the base." She glanced back up at him. "Do you have any questions before I take the DNA sample?"

"Just one," the Doctor told her. "I don't quite know my way around this place yet. Is there a map anywhere?"

Erida nodded. "There are directories in here and in the briefing room. Access to them is biometrically encrypted, as a precaution in the event that we are under attack by the Daleks."

"That plan may be fallible in the event that the Daleks release nanogenes and you all get infected," the Doctor warned.

Erida's eyes widened. "They have nanogenes?"

"Yes, Erida, they do."

She sighed. "In that case, we'll need to find an antigen."

"I don't know if that's possible."

She shrugged. "It won't be possible if we don't try."

 _Fair point. But it's also very risky._ "How will you be able to isolate them?"

"While I was in medical school, I learned a little bit about how the Chula were able to contain nanogenes for medical purposes. I can do more research on it, if that helps."

"Go for it," he encouraged her.

Erida pricked the Doctor's finger as he watched. The technician took a small blood sample before placing a small bandage over the wound. The Doctor looked up, startled upon seeing the faint outline of a stone angel in the corner. He blinked, confused, and it faded after a moment.

"Doctor? Are you alright?"

He turned, seeing Erida looking at him with concern. He furrowed his brow. "Yeah. I'm just tired, that's all." _What the hell was that about?_ He checked the wall clock, noticing that the time read _2359 ST._ "What is 'ST'?"

"Standard Time," Erida explained, glancing at the clock. "Twenty-four-hour days, 365 days per year, based off the Shadow Proclamation calendar. I forget where _they_ got it from, though."

"That's quite alright," the Doctor told her, wanting to end the conversation there. "I think I'll head to the barracks now."

Erida nodded. "I'll escort you there, just so you don't get lost on the first go."

The Doctor looked at her gratefully. "Thank you."

Fortunately, the two didn't have very far to walk, as the medical staff barracks were just a short distance away from sickbay. The Time Lord thanked her, and the two parted ways. The Doctor found a room that was designated for him—a single-person suite, he noted, which was good—and entered its bathroom, taking a shower. He emerged several minutes later, more than happy to have gotten sweat and grime off of himself. The Time Lord found a set of pyjamas and pants provided by the Obsidinites—both of which, upon closer inspection, thankfully did not have a tail-hole in the back—and put them on. The pyjama fabric was relatively cool to the touch, with an appearance to clothes made of silk. For all he knew, it could actually _be_ silk.

The Doctor rinsed his mouth with what looked to be mouthwash, looking up into the mirror after spitting it back into the sink.

Only…the reflection he saw was not his own.

Instead, the reflection he saw was that of a younger person—a blonde woman, with an earring on her left ear, and short hair that went down halfway between her jawline and her collarbone. From what he made out as he backed up against the nearby wall behind him—and she did the same thing—she looked to be wearing a blue tank top that was the same shade as the TARDIS, and black thigh-length shorts. Her hazel eyes seemed to be staring right back at him, straight into his soul.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow in confusion. The woman in the mirror did the same thing, with the same eyebrow. He did a bunch of ridiculous faces, and she mimicked them perfectly.

"This is… _weird,_ " he muttered. The woman lip-synced as he uttered those words, mimicking his exact motions without missing a beat.

The Doctor turned away, taking a deep breath before turning to face the mirror again. He saw his own reflection staring at him this time, echoing his quizzical expression. The Time Lord sighed. "I need sleep."

He shut off the lights in the bathroom, closing the door behind him before plopping himself on the bed on the other side of the room. The Time Lord tried to sleep, but thoughts of the strange angel and the woman in the mirror kept plaguing him. He closed his eyes after a few moments or so, knowing that he'd drift off eventually.

The whispering the Doctor had heard hours earlier returned, chilling him to the bone as insomnia ensued.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi, all! I'm back. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who._

* * *

 _EARTH, 2019 CE_

 _SHEFFIELD_

Bed rest, the Doctor realised, was very boring.

After departing the precinct, Graham and Ryan had gone home. The Doctor, meanwhile, had been ordered by Sunder to stay with Yaz until she was well enough to go about on her own. She couldn't even pilot the TARDIS.

"I'm _bored,_ " she complained.

Yaz raised an eyebrow. She was sitting at the kitchen table nearby. "It's been almost twenty-four hours, and _now_ you complain?"

The Doctor sat up from her position on the sofa, groaning. "Isn't there anything _better_ to do?"

Yaz pulled a face. "The Serge specifically said for me to make sure you didn't do anything strenuous."

The Doctor folded her arms. Yaz shrugged. " _You_ wouldn't see a doctor."

"I _am_ a doctor!" the Time Lord protested. "The _original,_ I might add."

"Then you should know damn well that you should rest," the constable retorted.

The Doctor opened her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut. "Fine," she ground out.

Yaz nodded, satisfied. "Good."

The Doctor flopped back down on the sofa, sighing. The only things she had been doing for the past day were sleep, eat, hydrate, complain, and occasionally get up to make a trip to the lavatory. She'd ended up with a migraine overnight and had spent about fourteen hours sleeping it off. So she'd been told, anyway. Save for a sore throat, she was now doing remarkably well.

 _Now all I have to do is find a way to keep myself busy, because I am going stir-crazy._

"Yaz?"

"Hm?" the constable responded

The Doctor rolled onto her side, now facing the younger woman instead of the ceiling. "What's the Netflix password?"

Yaz groaned. "No! Absolutely _not!_ You need to rest!"

"I _am_ resting!"

"Either way, telly's off-limits," Yaz said sternly. "At least until I'm certain you can so much as read a book without feeling sick to your stomach."

"My throat's the only thing that feels funny now," the Doctor grumbled. "And for the record, it's feeling better."

"Then I suggest you shut up for a bit and let it heal faster."

The Doctor blinked, falling silent. She got up, walking to a nearby bookshelf. She pulled out a volume by the Brothers Grimm, sitting back on the sofa. She opened to a page—

 _Oh, Clara._

"This brings back memories," she whispered, emotion in her voice.

"What does?" Yaz asked.

"This particular story by the Brothers Grimm," she explained. "One about a shepherd's boy. Have you read it before?"

"Yeah, during secondary school." Yaz frowned. "I never really understood that one."

"I do," the Doctor whispered grimly. _How can I forget? Four-and-a-half billion years being tortured inside my Confession Dial by the Time Lords, stuck in a closed energy loop, dying day after day after day while playing out the role of the bird chipping away at the—_

"Doctor?"

She looked up, her train of thought thankfully breaking as she saw Yaz directly in front of her. Her dark eyes were filled with confusion. "What did you mean just now, about understanding that story?"

"Some things are better left unsaid," she responded after a moment.

Yaz left it at that, instead proceeding to wash the dishes. The Doctor, meanwhile, read the story again, attempting to push out the memories of the Dial and Clara Oswald's death away from her focus. She'd failed twice but picked up where she left off once the tears had dried.

" _There's this emperor," the Twelfth Doctor retold to the Veil, punching the wall of abzantium over and over and over again. "And he asks this shepherd's boy, 'How many seconds in eternity?' And the shepherd's boy says, 'There's this mountain of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it, and an hour to go around it! Every hundred years, a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on the diamond mountain. And when the entire mountain is chiselled away, the first second of eternity will have passed.' You must think that's a hell of a long time." He looked down at the gears and mechanics that were what was left of the Veil, relieved to find that particular hell over. "Personally, I think that's a hell of a bird."_

The Thirteenth Doctor continued reading, finishing the volume some time later. She looked up at Yaz, who was typing something on her laptop. The Doctor closed the book. "What'cha up to?"

Yaz glanced at her briefly before turning back to the screen. "Teleworking. I might be assigned to keep an eye on you but that doesn't mean I don't have to go through a bunch of stuff."

The Doctor got up, stretching. "That's the thing with these types of jobs; there's so much paperwork."

Yaz shrugged. "If you say so. Anyway, you sound better."

"Really?" the Doctor listened to the sound of her own voice, both surprised and relieved to hear that it was sounding both stronger and not as cracked. "Huh. I guess I do." She checked the clock. _7:46 pm._ The Doctor glanced up at Yaz. "Do you mind if I call Graham and Ryan for a bit?"

"Go for it," Yaz told her, writing something down on a sticky note. She handed it to her. "It's their home telephone number," she explained upon seeing her friend's questioning look.

The Doctor nodded, walking over to the Khans' handheld telephone and dialling the proffered number.

" _Hello?"_

 _Graham's voice._ "Hey, Graham."

" _Doc?"_ the man's voice was full of shock and surprise. _"Wow, you sound better already."_

"So I've been told," the Doctor responded dryly. "How are you and Ryan doing?"

" _We're hanging in there,"_ Graham told her. " _Ryan just got up about twenty minutes ago. Quite frankly, I'd say he needed the rest."_ He changed the subject. _"How have you and Yaz been?"_

The Doctor smirked. "I'm feeling better than I was, although I've been driving the both of us crazy." The Time Lord left out the part about reliving the four-and-a-half billion years of torture, not yet ready to talk about it with anyone. She glanced up at Yaz, seeing the young constable typing away on her laptop. _Come on, Doctor. Focus_. "Other than that, I think Yaz is doing okay."

" _That's good."_

Yaz, meanwhile, had perked her head up. "What about me, Doctor?"

She angled the phone away from her mouth. "Graham was asking how we were doing."

"Gotcha." Yaz went back to her laptop.

" _Doctor, are you still there?"_

She readjusted the phone angle back to normal. "Yeah. Yaz was just asking me something."

" _You're fine,"_ he reassured her.

"Nein," the Doctor responded suddenly, confusing herself. _Huh?_

" _Sprichst du Deutsch?"_ Graham asked, surprised.

"Ja ich spreche Deutsch," the Doctor responded in the same language. She hadn't meant to switch over to German, but it made for an interesting conversational topic nonetheless. "Wie hast du Deutsch gelernt gehabt?"

" _In meiner Freizeit habe ich einigen Jahren gelernt Deutsch,"_ he responded. _"I'm a bit rusty,"_ he added quickly, switching back to English.

"That sounded pretty good, though," the Doctor commended him, also switching back over.

" _So, are you fine or not?"_

She stretched. "I'm getting there," she admitted, her free hand gently feeling the bandages on her neck. "Hopefully the bandages will be off within the next couple of days."

" _Glad to hear it."_

" _Is that the Doctor?"_ Ryan asked in the background. It sounded like he had hollered the query.

" _Yeah,"_ Graham responded. _"Want to say hello?"_

The increasingly louder sound of rapid footsteps in the receiver was enough to inform the Doctor that Ryan's answer had clearly been "yes." _"Doctor? Are you still there?"_

The Time Lord winced at the loud volume. "Yes, Ryan, I'm still on the line."

Ryan sighed in relief. _"You seem alright."_

"I've still got these bandages on," she informed him.

" _She spoke to me in German earlier,"_ Graham said in the background.

" _So_ that's _what that was,"_ Ryan joked. _"I thought somebody had let the neighbour's cat in or something."_ Laughter ensued in the background.

"Oi! I hadn't _meant_ to switch to German," the Time Lord protested, though she found herself laughing to the point where her throat got sore again. "It just—slipped."

" _Doc, you_ do _realise I've had you on speaker for the past several minutes,"_ Graham said dryly after a brief pause.

 _Whoops._ "Just now, I did," she retorted playfully. Her eyes widened. "Even when I was speaking German?"

" _Yep,"_ Graham confirmed.

The Doctor snorted. "In that case—"

" _I was joking!"_ Ryan interjected hastily.

"Why were you speaking German?" Yaz asked, looking up from her computer.

"I thought one thing in English, and it came out not-English," the Doctor said, sighing.

" _Is that Yaz?"_ Ryan asked.

"Yeah," the Time Lord responded. "She's working at the moment."

Yaz nodded. "Tell Ryan 'hi' for me."

The Doctor nodded. "Yaz says hi."

" _Tell her I said 'hi' back."_

The Doctor moved the receiver. "Ryan says 'hi' back."

Yaz gave her a thumbs-up, returning to work immediately after. The Doctor chatted with Graham and Ryan for several more minutes, only ending the call when Graham told her that he had to go make dinner for him and Ryan. The Doctor wished them farewell, setting the handset down in its original place once the conversation was over. She stretched, glancing over at Yaz. "I'm gonna get a shower."

"Go," Yaz told her, waving the Time Lord away without looking up from her computer screen.

The Doctor walked down the hall, locating towels in the linen closet. She walked back into the kitchen, remembering that all of her toiletries were still in the TARDIS. "I left my shampoo and other stuff outside," she told Yaz.

The constable finally looked up, shrugging. "Just borrow some of mine for the time being. It's no big deal; that stuff has to get used anyway."

The Doctor nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

Once she got in the shower, the Time Lord found herself embracing the heat of the hot shower as the water trickled down her back. She had taken off the bandages since they weren't waterproof, and the gashes stung a bit whenever the water made contact with them.

But still…the hot shower was relieving.

She shut the water off several minutes later, putting on a TARDIS blue tank top and black thigh-length shorts after drying herself off. The Time Lord made use of a nearby hair dryer, smiling at the air blowing in her face. The Doctor shut it off once she felt satisfied, checking herself in the mirror as she put her earring back on. The gashes left behind by the Weeping Angel were healing, though more bandages and more antibiotics would be needed for a few days before they could completely heal.

She closed her eyes, wincing as the gashes made their pain known. The Doctor opened her eyes, looking at herself in the mirror again.

Only…the reflection he saw was not her own. Not currently.

Instead, the reflection she saw was that of her third incarnation, wearing silk pyjamas of all things, equally confused. She backed up against the nearby wall behind her—and he did the same thing. His blue eyes seemed to be staring right back at her, straight into their soul.

The Thirteenth Doctor raised an eyebrow in confusion. The Third Doctor in the mirror did the same thing, with the same eyebrow. She did a bunch of ridiculous faces, and he mimicked them perfectly.

"This is… _weird,_ " she muttered. Her younger self lip-synced as she uttered those words, mimicking her exact motions without missing a beat.

The Doctor turned away, taking a deep breath before turning to face the mirror again. She saw her own reflection staring at her this time, her own face, echoing her quizzical expression. The Time Lord frowned. "That was strange."

She exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. The Doctor leaned back against it, sighing. "Please tell me I'm not losing it at this age," she muttered to herself.

"I should certainly _hope_ not. You've only been in that body for what, four months?"

The Time Lord jumped, startled. She relaxed upon seeing Yaz at the end of the hallway. The Doctor allowed herself a small smile. "Just over four months, yeah," she confirmed. She frowned, looking away.

"Is something the matter, Doctor?" Yaz asked.

"I just saw one of my younger selves in the mirror," she admitted.

" _One_ of your younger selves?" the Constable asked, confused. "You mean there's more than just the White-Haired Scotsman and the one that met Agatha Christie?"

"Loads more," the Doctor responded, finally turning to face her friend. "Though this is my first time being female."

"It doesn't matter to me." Yaz walked over, inspecting the Doctor's neck wounds. "These're looking better," she remarked. "I'd still keep using bandages for a while, though." The Constable folded her arms. "So, which one of you was it?"

"The one that had a tattoo and was stuck on Earth during the late '60s and early 1970s," she responded.

Yaz snorted. "You've been to the '70s? Did you have an afro?"

"Oi! I had an afro during two different lifetimes. But not during that one."

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "So, the old adage about cats having nine lives…that's true about whatever type of alien you are?"

"Yeah," the Doctor accepted. "But we get more than nine, usually."

"Huh," Yaz mused. "You learn something new every day." She changed the subject. "Come on. Let's get fresh bandages on you."

The Doctor shrugged, walking into the common area. Yaz grabbed a first-aid kit off the bookcase, opening it. She frowned. "I'll be right back."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. "Something the matter?"

"Not really; I just left the ointment in the medicine cabinet from when I changed your dressings this morning."

 _Oh. That makes sense._ The Doctor glanced at her. "Okay."

Yaz left the room. The Time Lord sighed, head in her hands. _Get it together, Doctor. It's just a few more days. You've been through worse._

 _ **Have you?**_ A whisper in her head responded this time, challengingly, though the Doctor wasn't entirely certain it was her own. Or was it? She had innumerable voices in her head, mostly memories of events, past selves, or past and current crewmates.

She looked up, hands dropping in horror when she saw a Weeping Angel in front of her. It pointed at the Time Lord herself, a terrible smile on its face, as if it knew something she didn't.

The Doctor stared unblinkingly at it, terror racing through her at lightspeed. _How did it get into the flat? We're several stories up. How come we didn't notice it come in?_

"Doctor?" Yaz's voice broke through her thoughts, filled with concern. "What are you looking at?"

"You don't see it?" she asked, voice deadly soft.

"…No," Yaz responded slowly, after a few seconds. "All I see is the bookshelf. Unless a moth got in, I don't think there's anything there."

"So, you don't see the Weeping Angel right in front of you?"

" _What?!"_ Yaz spluttered. She hissed in frustration. "Don't scare me like that; there's nothing there!" She sighed. "Seriously, Doctor, you can blink."

The Doctor pulled a face. _Yaz, if this goes south, I am going to be seriously cross._ Reluctantly, she blinked.

Turns out, Yaz was right.

"What?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"You were hallucinating," Yaz summarised. She shrugged. "Given that you just had your neck slashed by a stone statue, I wouldn't be surprised if it was a psychological part of the aftermath."

"Your bedside manner needs work," the Time Lord complained.

Yaz's brow furrowed. "Are you going to let me treat your neck or not?"

"Yeah, yeah." The Doctor sat still, be it unhappily. _Why was I hallucinating that thing now of all times? It doesn't make sense. Also, why was I hallucinating? I'm not high on anything, as far as I'm aware._

"You alright?"

The Doctor looked up, seeing Yaz's concerned look. The constable held a bandage and the antibiotic. "Yeah," the Time Lord responded after a moment. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"More like you were brooding," Yaz retorted. She relented. "I'm gonna put the bandages on now. You know the drill."

The Doctor pulled her hair out of the way, allowing the bandages to be placed. She let her hair back down once her friend was finished. The bandages were annoying, but the Time Lord allowed herself to overlook this unpleasantness. It was better than letting those wounds get infected.

"Are you sure you're alright, Doctor?" Yaz asked, concern in her voice.

 _Yeah, are you?_ She wasn't sure, but she allowed herself a small smile. "Like you said, it's probably psychological. I'll be fine—eventually."

Yaz nodded, getting the Time Lord's message that the conversation was over. She grabbed the first aid kit, heading for her room. "See you in the morning," the Constable said, vanishing into the hallway.

The Doctor walked to the sofa, laying down. She closed her eyes, but another quick flashback to Manhattan caused her to open them back up again.

"I guess I'm not going to get some sleep anytime soon," she groaned.

She stood, walking into the kitchen area. She grabbed Yaz's keys from the table, heading outside. The Time Lord stood on the balcony, watching the beauty of the Sheffield cityscape in front of her. Sounds of nightlife filled her ears, sounds of the wind, cars, and—

 _Brrrrr._

The Doctor shivered, facepalming. "Right," she muttered. "It's the middle of January. Of course it's freezing outside." She allowed herself a small smile, looking out at the cityscape once again. "It's still just as beautiful."

The Time Lord walked back inside, locking the door behind her. She put Yaz's keys back on the table, checking the clock on the kitchen microwave.

"Eleven fifty-nine P.M.," she remarked. She shrugged. "About as good a time as any to make hot cocoa."

A _nd maybe, just maybe, it can help me get back to sleep._

She grabbed a mug from a cabinet, pouring milk inside it before placing it in the microwave for ninety seconds. The Time Lord sighed, looking down.

And almost screamed.

Where her left hand should have been, was a stone hand.

 _BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP._

The Doctor looked up, spooked, shaking her head once she realised the microwave was telling her that the milk was ready. She glanced back down at her hand, seeing that it was her own, fully flesh and blood.

"Yaz is right," she told herself as she opened the microwave door, closing it after removing the hot milk. "I'm only hallucinating." She stirred in the cocoa mix, raising an eyebrow. "It's a cruel hallucination, that's for sure." The Time Lord walked to the sofa, sipping the chocolatey beverage gingerly, wincing when her tongue started to send pain signals. She put the mug on the coffee table. "Too hot," she rasped to the empty room, annoyed.

A loud noise startled her. She frowned, thinking it was her imagination, but it sounded again as a knock on the door.

The Doctor stood, grabbing her sonic off the kitchen table. _If it's a Weeping Angel I'm screaming._ She opened the door slowly, seeing a bedraggled teenager, arguably fourteen at most. _Still just a kid,_ the Doctor thought. "Can I help you?"

The teenager frowned. "Is Constable Khan here?"

"Yeah, she's inside," the Doctor responded, kneeling in front of the kid. "What's the matter?"

"I'm scared."

That was _never_ a good sign, especially given the terrified look on his face. "Come on in," she responded. "It's better than letting you freeze to death out here."

Reluctantly, the kid nodded, and he followed her in. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm a friend of the Constable's," she said gently. "I'll get her. In the meantime, wait out here. Don't touch anything." She ran to Yaz's room, barging in. The Constable sat bolt upright, switching on her lamp. "Doctor, what the heck?!"

"There's a scared kid in the common area," she explained. "He was looking for you specifically."

"And you let him into my flat while I was sleeping?!"

"What was I supposed to do, let him freeze to death?" the Doctor retorted. Although, she had to admit, that hadn't been the best approach. "Come on!"

Yaz groaned, storming out of the bedroom in front of the Doctor, muttering something about having to lay down some ground rules in the future. By the time the Time Lord got to the common area, the Constable was somehow already in-uniform and coaxing the teenager, who was whispering to Yaz about what had brought him to the flat. She nodded, turning to the Doctor. "I'm gonna be a while."

She nodded. "Good luck."

Yaz rolled her eyes. "Just get some sleep."

"Like that's gonna happen," the Doctor muttered darkly under her breath.

The Constable's eyes narrowed. "Please try, will you? You're still healing. If I find that you're still awake by the time I get back, I _will_ call Graham, and believe me, he will _not_ be happy to find that you're pulling an all-nighter in such a state. Do I make myself clear?"

The Doctor gulped. "Definitely." She gave a single, short nod, and Yaz and the kid exited, door closing shut behind them. The Time Lord knew that her friend had chosen her words carefully in order to not scare the teenager even more, but she knew that a lecture from Graham about this would not go over well, especially since it was very likely that Ryan would also be chewing her out about it. She picked up her hot cocoa, relieved to find it was no longer scalding and more potable. She downed it over the course of a few minutes, deep in thought. _I hope that kid's going to be okay. He seemed pretty scared._ She smiled wanly. _He'll be okay. Yaz is there. But why her specifically?_

She put the mug in the sink, walking back toward the sofa. She knew the Constable would make good on her threat if she got home and found the Time Lord to still be awake.

 _I guess I'll find out after I get some sleep,_ she decided, curling up under the blankets. She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her.

* * *

 _The Doctor entered her TARDIS, relieved to be somewhere relatively safe. Given the hallucinations she had experienced earlier in the evening, it was hard to say that she wasn't scared out of her wits._

 _A familiar song on electric guitar stopped her in her tracks. She turned, seeing her predecessor sitting in front of the console, strumming away._

" _That's Clara's song, isn't it?" she asked._

" _That's right," the Twelfth Doctor responded, finishing the final chords. His eyes bore into his successor's own._

" _Is this a dream?" the Thirteenth Doctor wondered._

" _Pretty much," her predecessor conceded. "Think of this as a return to your own mind palace." He glanced at her. "Take a seat."_

 _The Thirteenth Doctor obliged, frowning. "You know damn well what's going on, so don't even try lecturing me on it," she told him, voice exhausted._

 _The Twelfth Doctor stood, looking down on her with those mad eyes. "Is that defeat I hear?" he asked, concerned. "Get it together, Doctor! You can't go down before you've even started fighting!"_

 _The Thirteenth raised an eyebrow, getting to her feet as well. "What makes you think there's anything for me to fight against? I already got my ass kicked by Weeping Angels—"_

" _What makes you think the situation is only external?" the White-Haired Scotsman asked, cutting her off. "All those hallucinations you've been experiencing today—they've got to mean something's coming, right?"_

" _Likely," the Thirteenth Doctor admitted. "It might also be psychological side effects of what happened at Staffordshire."_

" _And what do you think?"_

 _The Thirteenth Doctor pondered this for a few seconds. "I think there's more to it than either of us are making it out to be."_

" _Ah, good!" exclaimed her predecessor. "There's some fight coming back in there—use it!"_

 _The Thirteenth Doctor folded her arms. "So…if this is my mind palace, why are you here?"_

 _The Scotsman smiled. "You see, that is a very good question." He gestured to the area. "You'll be visiting this place a lot." His smile faded, replaced with the stern expression that she had become familiar with while she was him. "But don't use this place as an excuse to come running away from the nightmares."_

" _Use it to your advantage," she finished, nodding in understanding._

" _I will come by sometimes," the White-Haired Scotsman told her. "Most times, it will be others, be it other versions of us or even some of those who we have travelled with. But don't you dare give up. And don't think that you have to go at it alone. Because that's a stupid idea, and that will likely not end well. No—it won't end well. There's no likely about it."_

" _It's just another mystery I'll have to figure out, then," she told him, perking up slightly. "That's fine by me."_

 _The White-Haired Scotsman smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Good luck, Doctor."_

* * *

Yaz returned shortly after three that morning, exhausted. _That was one hell of a domestic,_ she thought, recalling the events of the past three hours. She placed the keys on the table, checking on the Doctor. To both her surprise and relief, the alien was sound asleep on the sofa, a small smile on her face.

 _At least she's sleeping peacefully._ Yaz changed into a set of pyjamas, grimacing as she looked at the newly-acquired black eye in the mirror. _No matter how I explain this it isn't going to go over well,_ she thought grimly. _And I still have to do that report._ She checked her alarm clock. _03:19._ Yaz groaned as fatigue made itself known. "I'll do it later," she told the empty bedroom, sleep taking over as soon as her head made contact with the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD

"—Khan! _Hello!_ Earth to PC Khan!"

Yaz's good eye snapped open, glancing upwards. She straightened abruptly at her desk, seeing Sergeant Sunder in front of her. _I fell asleep at work?!_ "Yes, Serge?"

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he told her. "How's that report about last night coming along?"

Yaz checked her computer screen, frowning. "There's less progress than there should be, I'm afraid." She'd stumbled into work earlier that afternoon, tired even after three cups of espresso-containing beverages. "I'm also still working on the report on Staffordshire."

Sunder nodded sympathetically. "Well, you _do_ keep pestering me for challenges, Yaz. Don't you think this is a bit more than you bargained for?"

The Constable gave him a fulminating look. "At least I had backup last night." She groaned, feeling the pain in her right eye return as she brought it up. The Sergeant noticed her covering her eye, looking at her with concern. "It's still hurting?"

"It's not as bad as it was this morning," she reassured him. "I was able to sleep it off for a few hours once I removed the gauze."

Sunder looked at her sceptically. "In any case, if it gets worse, you should get it looked at."

Yaz touched the area near her eye on instinct, frowning. "Don't remind me."

Sunder folded his arms. "Okay…onto another matter." He glanced around the area, likely to make sure they were alone. "How's your friend holding up?"

"The Doctor?"

Sunder nodded. Yaz shrugged. "She was hallucinating a bit last night, but that's likely normal given what she's gone through."

The Sergeant shook his head. "Only for extreme circumstances. But…were they flashbacks?"

"From what she described, she saw one of those Angels in the flat," Yaz admitted. "But I don't think it was a flashback."

"Drug use history?"

"None that I was aware of," Yaz responded, shrugging. "She definitely isn't on anything now as far as I know."

"Any other symptoms?"

Yaz considered this. "Other than a migraine, I didn't see anything that was serious," she admitted. "And that one she slept off."

Sunder sighed, looking around again before turning back to Yaz. "If she was human, I'd have you take her to get a CAT scan," he said seriously, lowering his voice.

"I'd rather not see her end up dissected," Yaz retorted, voice also lowering.

"I know that!" Sunder folded his arms. "If it's at all possible, I'd like to have one of the interns look into her case."

"Which one?"

"Oslo Stefansson."

"Stefansson?" Yaz asked, surprised, recalling the name. "What's he majoring in again?"

"Neuroscience."

Yaz looked at her superior, dubious. "What makes you so certain we can trust him? The last time I ran into him he wanted to get up close and personal with Vulcan neuroanatomy."

"You _do_ realise that's not an excuse to deny him the opportunity, right?"

Yaz covered her black eye, wincing as she felt the tenderness that was still present. "I guess not," she admitted. "But she's my best friend."

"Which is why I am asking for your approval," her superior told her bluntly. Yaz's good eye widened in surprise. "Me? Seriously?"

"Very." Sunder stroked his beard. "I wouldn't normally do this, but I want to make sure nothing happens to her under our watch. Stefansson's more than capable of handling this."

Yaz sighed. _It's better to make sure she's doing okay._ "Fine." But something else was bothering her. "Sergeant… _Is_ she okay?"

Sunder grimaced. "I wish I knew one way or the other, Yaz," he admitted, uncertainty present in his voice. "I saw something while I was checking her out. It could be nothing, but it would be a mistake to base her case off of someone like you or me." He sighed. "In any case, I would feel more comfortable with a second opinion."

Yaz nodded. Her thoughts wandered back to the Staffordshire incident. "Any luck with the radio, Sergeant?"

Sunder frowned. "Yes and no. We IDed the radio's owner as Chief Inspector Archer Greenlee of the Staffordshire Division, whom Sinclair and O'Brien reported as deceased. The interns are still uploading his communications drive to the system."

"What do we know about the vic?" Yaz asked.

"I got in touch with a few people in his division at a pub in Derby after last night's shift," Sunder responded. "Word was that he was a racist douchebag whom they bid 'good riddance' to after I told them about his death."

"That bad, huh?" Yaz looked away, briefly recalling the trip to 1955 Montgomery.

"Apparently. When I told them about the stone angels you encountered, and how it definitely looks like they killed Greenlee and caused the disappearances similar to Wester Drumlins, a lot of 'em wet themselves. That's what they told me, anyway," he added after seeing Yaz raise an eyebrow.

"You keep bringing up that name a lot," Yaz remarked. "What's Wester Drumlins?"

He frowned. "I have to be back at dispatch in ten minutes, so I'll make this quick."

Yaz straightened, eager to hear more.

"Wester Drumlins was the site of a series of disappearances back in '08," he explained. "It was an urban legend while I was in my probationary years, but those disappearances were rumoured to have been caused by stone angels."

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "And what? You didn't believe it?"

"Of course I didn't," Sunder retorted. "To me, it was just an urban legend, a myth. But when you mentioned that there were stone angels causing similar shenanigans at Staffordshire, I nearly pissed my pants."

Yaz scoffed. "You didn't _look_ that scared, sir."

"I wasn't scared!" he protested. "Okay, maybe a little." He stretched. "It's better to be scared on the inside than on the outside. Fear is contagious, even more so when other people know that you're afraid. And there are those that are willing to abandon everything to take advantage of that fear. My advice is, be the better person." He checked his watch as Yaz looked on, processing that information. "Do what you can today with those reports, Constable."

"Yes, sir."

The Sergeant paused. "Yaz…just out of curiosity, what did you do when you saw those Angels move at Stafford?"

Yaz winced, preferring _not_ to recall how narrowly she and the others had escaped. "I emptied a clip into the one I saw do so, sir."

The superior officer nodded approvingly. "You're braver than a lot of people I know, Yaz." He waved a hand. "I'll check on your progress at five."

Yaz returned her gaze to the computer screen. _The time is currently 12:15,_ she saw. _That gives me just under five hours to do the reports. I'll likely get the one from Staffordshire done today. But the other one will take a while. Might as well start on that one._

* * *

 **Incident Report: Park Hill Domestic Incident/Methamphetamine Bust**

 **Officer: Constable Yasmin Khan**

 **Date: 18 January 2019**

 **Details:**

 **I received an in-person tip in my flat shortly after midnight 18 January 2019 from one of the other Park Hill residents about a possible domestic. A friend who was staying with me alerted me to the case, and I proceeded to investigate…**

* * *

 _12-ISH HOURS EARLIER…_

 _CRASH._

Yaz sat bolt upright, eyes widening upon seeing the Doctor. She switched on her lamp. "Doctor, what the heck?!"

The blonde woman gestured behind her. "There's a scared kid in the common area," she explained. "He was looking for you specifically."

"And you let him into my flat while I was sleeping?!"

The alien folded her arms. "What was I supposed to do, let him freeze to death?" she retorted. "Come on!"

Yaz groaned, storming out ahead of her friend. "Doctor, don't get me wrong, I like having you here, but we have _got_ to set some ground rules in the future," she muttered under her breath. She retrieved her uniform from the hall closet, putting it on over her pyjamas, reaching the common area a moment later. The Doctor, she saw, had been right, as she saw a young boy with a skin shade similar to Ryan's standing there, uncertain as he saw her.

"It's okay," she reassured him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He glanced up at her. "Are you Constable Khan?"

"Yes," she confirmed, approaching him. She knelt down in front of the boy. "What's your name?"

"Cole," he responded, wariness in his voice.

Yaz gave him a small smile, one designed to placate. She didn't know if it was working. "Hello, Cole. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He bit his lip. "My neighbours are fighting. It's loud. My older sister sent me to find you."

"How did you know where I live? And why didn't you call Park Hill security?"

"We're a few flats away from you. We didn't want to call security because…" He faltered, but Yaz had a feeling what he was going to say. "You were worried they wouldn't believe you."

"Yep."

"But why me?" Yaz wondered.

"You are the only nice police officer she knows," he whispered.

Yaz's eyes widened as she was taken aback. She heard footsteps approaching and nodded, turning to face the Doctor. She stood. "I'm gonna be a while," she informed the alien.

The Doctor nodded. "Good luck."

 _I'm definitely going to need it if it's as bad as the kid is implying._ Yaz rolled her eyes. "Just get some sleep," she responded, attempting to play off the situation.

The Doctor scoffed. "Like that's going to happen."

Yaz's eyes narrowed, finding a dark undertone in her friend's voice that she did not like one bit. _Don't you dare, Doctor._ "Please try, will you? You're still healing." She straightened up to her full height. "If I find that you're still awake by the time I get back, I _will_ call Graham, and believe me, he will _not_ be happy to find that you're pulling an all-nighter in such a state. Do I make myself clear?"

The alien gulped, evidently seeing that the Constable was very much serious about making good on her threat. "Definitely."

She gave a single short nod, and Yaz exited with Cole, the Constable closing the door shut behind them. "All right," Yaz said, glancing at the teenager, "which way now?"

Cole pointed to the left. The two walked in the proffered direction in silence. _Something about this feels funny,_ Yaz thought. _And not in a good way._

"Here." Cole looked up at her. "This is my flat," he said, pointing to a door reading 24.

"Which one did the incident take place in?" Yaz asked.

"Twenty-two."

Yaz nodded, knocking on the door to the kid's flat. It opened, revealing a girl around her age that the Constable recognised from a traffic stop.

"Zelda Harris," she stated.

"Yasmin Khan," the girl acknowledged. She looked down at her sibling. "Cole, get inside. It's cold."

"But I haven't told her what—"

"I'll tell her," Zelda interrupted sternly. "Mum and Dad aren't back yet, and I promised them that I'd have you asleep by the time they're here."

Cole sulked. "Fine." He walked inside, leaving the two females outside.

Yaz folded her arms. "Mind telling me the full extent of what's going on here? Your brother said that the neighbours were having it out, but you didn't call security because they wouldn't believe you."

"To be fair, Yasmin, you're the only copper that's been decent towards me," Zelda huffed. She sighed. "Anyway, that's the gist of it. There's something weird going on, but I don't know what. I want you to check it out."

"I'm technically off-duty," Yaz told her. "But since I'm up, I might as well." She frowned. "So you really don't know what's going on?"

"Nope. They were fighting, but it stopped about ten minutes ago. Haven't really heard a peep from them since."

 _The Doctor dragged me out of bed for_ this _bullshit?_ Yaz covered up her annoyance as best as possible, giving the tenant a small nod. "I'll let you know what I find."

Zelda's expression was that of relief. "Thanks, Yasmin. I appreciate it." She went inside, door closing behind her.

Yaz sighed. "Here goes nothing." She knocked on the door of Flat 22, praying that there was as much bullshittery as she had initially thought. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

No response. The Constable looked down, seeing the door ever so slightly ajar. Her eyes narrowed. "Looks like I was expected." She took out her mobile, texting Sunder.

 **Investigating a possible domestic on my floor at Park Hill. Looks like there are possible signs of foul play. I will likely need backup. Will keep you updated.**

She sent the message, pocketing her phone. Yaz made her way inside, gagging. The stench was malodourous; it smelled of strange chemicals, and it didn't look like anyone had cleaned up for a while.

"Ugh." Yaz activated her torch, beam ultimately settling on something that looked like a scene out of _Breaking Bad._ The Constable raised an eyebrow, both surprised and alarmed that it hadn't set off the fire alarms or the smoke detectors. She reached for her mobile again.

 **Looks like a scene from Breaking Bad here. At Flat 22.**

Sunder hadn't responded to her previous message, though it was marked as "Read 0:26". Yaz groaned. _He saw it five minutes ago and hasn't said a bloody thing. Great._

"Is there anybody in here?" she asked, louder this time. "This is the police!"

Still no response. She sighed. "Things are probably going to get worse from here, aren't they?"

She took two steps forward, and it felt as though she had collided with a concrete wall. So why did only her eye hurt like hell?

The Constable grimaced in pain, covering her right eye with one hand and grabbed her torch with the other.

A stone fist was right in front of her face.

Yaz's good eye widened, focusing on the stone angel in front of her.

"Not again!" she groaned, making an effort not to blink. _I have to get out of here. Fast._ "I'm screwed."

A loud bang startled her, causing her to drop the torch. _Oh, shit. Oh, shit._

"PC Khan? Are you in there?"

"Yes!" Yaz hollered. "Get over here!" She picked up her torch, finding that the Angel had covered its eyes now. The Constable backed up slowly, colliding with something that felt like another human.

"Are you okay, Constable?" the woman asked. "The Sarge got your message and sent us over."

Yaz pointed in front of her.

"Switch on the lights," the woman directly behind her ordered to another officer. Someone flipped the lights, revealing the Weeping Angel in front of them, fangs bared.

"HOLY FUCK, WHAT IS THAT?!" a man's voice screamed.

"That's a Weeping Angel," Yaz said, attempting to keep her composure. "I encountered some at Stafford, and barely made it out of there alive." Her nose wrinkled upon encountering a new, revolting odour. "What's that smell?"

Silence. The woman behind Yaz sighed. "Carl, please tell me you didn't shit yourself."

"It's…possible."

"Dammit, Carl!"

The lights started flickering. Yaz gulped. "We need to get out of here."

"What about the chemistry lab over there?" Carl asked.

"With all due respect, I'd like to not die right now!" Yaz snapped.

"You heard the Constable," the woman hollered. "Out the door. NOW!"

Everyone bolted. Yaz dropped to the concrete outside the entrance, panting. "Who are you people?"

"Inspector Carrie Nielsen," the woman whom she had collided with said. "Shit-stain over here is PC Carl Wagner. You've met us before, albeit not recently." She frowned. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm in pain," Yaz responded bluntly.

Nielsen knelt down in front of her, wincing. "Well, you've got a hell of a shiner, that's for sure," she remarked. "Who did this?"

"The killer statue that's still inside the apartment."

"Don't be ridiculous," Nielsen scoffed. "Statues can't move."

"These can," Yaz retorted.

"I fucking _told_ you!"

Yaz turned in the direction of the new voice, frowning. "Hello?"

"Why don't you come out of there, mate?" Carl asked.

A dishevelled, blond-haired man emerged from a nearby corridor, alongside a ginger woman who looked to be in similar condition. The former was sporting several bruises on his face.

"Did she hit you?" Yaz asked the blond.

"Yep," he grumbled, though the slur in his voice was obvious. "She went to the flea market earlier today and brought home some antique mirrors and this freaky-ass angel statue. I kept _telling_ her it moved—"

"And I keep telling you, that's _codswallop!"_ the ginger retorted, smacking him in the face. There was a similar slur in her voice.

Carl snorted. "Do they not care that we're police?" he whispered to Yaz.

"Apparently not," she whispered back.

Nielsen frowned, peering inside. "Hot _damn,_ " she muttered. "Congratulations, Yasmin. You just discovered your first meth lab."

"What?!" The young Constable was taken aback. "So when I said it looked like something out of _Breaking Bad_ —"

"You were right on the money," Nielsen confirmed.

"Fuck the meth," the blond muttered, a strange look in his eyes. "Can you just get that statue outta my flat?"

"Can we just _leave_ it?" Carl complained.

"It will kill everyone in this building if we do that," Yaz admonished him.

" _Seriously?"_

"Yeah."

Nielsen sighed. "Fine. We'll move it. But you're helping."

"Fine by me. Just don't mess with our meth lab."

"These people have _got_ to be high or something," Carl muttered under his breath.

"I think that's pretty fucking obvious," Nielsen deadpanned. Her expression brightened. "But that might just work in our favour."

"Huh?"

"Methamphetamine is a stimulant," Nielsen explained. "Meaning these two knuckleheads are seriously wired up."

"But how are three police officers and a couple of junkies capable of removing a statue that will move if you so much as blink?" Yaz asked.

"Oh, we won't blink," the ginger said in a glib manner.

"You'd better not," the blond retorted. "Let's go."

The man kicked the door open, startling Yaz. "Hey, motherfucker!" he yelled. "Look who's come to finally evict your creepy arse!"

"Oh, brother," Carl muttered. "Yasmin, are you good to—"

"Yes," Yaz snapped. _Just because I have a shiner it doesn't mean I can't do my job, dumbass._ They hurried in, switching on the lights. The Weeping Angel had covered its eyes again.

"Remember, don't blink!" Nielsen ordered. "Everyone, get behind it and push!"

The other four people in the room obeyed the command, Nielsen joining the group.

"For a stone statue, this fucker is light," Carl remarked.

"Quit complaining and push," Nielsen snapped. "The longer it takes, the longer we have to deal with the shite smell coming from your pants."

Carl growled but said nothing as the group continued to push. After what felt like forever, they made it outside without any complications. The officers looked at each other, panting.

"Can I go to the pub once this is over?" Carl muttered.

Nielsen snorted. "I don't care, so long as you change your pants first."

Yaz covered her right eye, grimacing. "It hurts."

"We can deal with it later," Nielsen said sternly, though her tone was not unsympathetic. "Is anybody still looking at the statue?"

Yaz's good eye widened. She turned, seeing that it had moved a bit, and it looked pissed.

The blond that was high on meth didn't seem to care that much. In fact, he seemed to be taking this a little too well.

"You see this?" he hollered, looking at it challengingly as he stared directly into its eyes. He held up two middle fingers. "This means 'fuck you', asshole! _FUCK YOU!_ Do ya hear me?!"

"Oh, yeah," Carl deadpanned. "Loud and clear."

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" The blond dropped the obscene gestures, flipping the Weeping Angel off the balcony. Yaz grimaced as she heard it land several stories below, car alarms blaring as glass shattered.

"THAT'S RIGHT!" the blond screamed. "AND STAY THE FUCK OUT!"

The door to Flat 24 opened, revealing an annoyed Zelda Harris staring at them. "Go the fuck to sleep, Max." It slammed shut again, leaving them alone.

"So…now what?" Yaz asked.

Nielsen glanced at her. "Well, obviously we arrest these two and call in some people to take down the lab. I've got a first aid kit with me so I'll do what I can for your eye. But if it gets worse, you'll need to get it checked out at A&E. If anyone asks, say you ran into a pole."

"Thanks," the young Constable muttered sarcastically.

"Ten," Max slurred.

Everyone ignored him, walking to the lift. He and the ginger were then handcuffed, and the party proceeded down to the bottom level.

"Nine," Max said out of the blue.

"How much has this guy had?" Carl asked. The ginger shrugged. "Hell if I know."

They exited, stopping briefly so that Nielsen could treat Yaz's injury. She wrapped a bandage around the young Constable's head, a gauze patch covering her eye.

"That's the best I can do for now," Nielsen told her sympathetically. "Wagner and I will take these two to the station. I'll radio dispatch for backup in disassembling the meth lab. You stay here in case anything happens."

"What about the Angel?" Yaz asked warily. The car alarms were still blaring.

"Eight," Max slurred.

"It probably ran off," Carl suggested. "Let's go."

They walked to the parking lot, finding what was left of the Angel on top of a now-totalled sedan. It was shattered, some parts into dust, others big stone slabs that looked as though they were trying to put themselves back together.

"Now _that's_ something you don't see every day," Carl muttered.

"Seven," Max announced.

"Shut the fuck up, Max!" Carl snapped. "The last thing I need is _another_ shit-stain to deal with!"

"Any suggestions?" Nielsen asked, urgency in her voice.

"Blow it up?" the ginger responded, a hopeful tone present.

"Oh, for the love of—" The Inspector sighed. "Fine. Let's blow it up so it doesn't reform."

"Six," Max elicited.

"That is _really_ starting to creep me out," Yaz muttered, watching as the car and the Angel went down in flames.

"Do you think you can keep an eye on the place for a bit?" Nielsen asked.

Yaz gave her a bemused look. "Considering I can only use one for the time being, I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem. The fire department?"

"Explain to them what's going on, and that it's police-sanctioned," the superior officer told her. "Be sure to keep anybody from snooping."

"Five," Max droned.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" Carl shouted. "Honestly, what's _with_ this guy?"

"What do you expect? He's on meth," Yaz pointed out dryly.

"We'll deal with it on the way to the station," Nielsen informed the Constables. The five walked to Nielsen's car, Max muttering "four" just before the door shut closed. Yaz stood in the parking lot as her colleagues drove away, the sound of flames licking what remained of the sedan behind her eerily calming.

It was a few hours before Yaz was able to return to Flat 34. During that time, she had to straighten out matters with the fire department (whom afterwards she let administer additional treatment on her eye when they offered to do so), explain to the reinforcements in charge of removing the meth lab to the best of her ability what had led to her discovering it, and watch as the fire officials present removed the smouldering sedan and the inert Weeping Angel from the premises. Fortunately, no one had come outside wondering what was going on, so the need for crowd control was rendered unnecessary.

The fire marshal hadn't been too happy about having to deal with this type of situation at two in the morning. Honestly, Yaz couldn't blame him. Neither of them were looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would inevitably end up at their respective desks.

Yaz walked back up using the stairs this time, checking her phone once she got to her floor. _03:13._ "Time to get home," she whispered.

* * *

 _NOW…_

"Finally," Yaz muttered, finishing her report on the meth bust. She hadn't worked on it for the entirety of the past four-ish hours, having taken breaks for lunch, additional coffee, and the lavatory, but it had been pretty close. She saved the file to her desktop, stretching her arms.

"PC Khan? Do you have a minute?"

Yaz looked up, seeing Meredith Allen in front of the Constable's desk. "Of course, Inspector," she acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

The forty-something brunette Inspector's face was tense. "Nielsen's shift was supposed to start at two this afternoon. She's my relief."

Yaz frowned. "What's that got to do with me?"

"You two and Wagner worked the methamphetamine bust this morning, right?"

"Yeah…why do you ask? Are they alright?"

"They never reported in."


	10. Chapter 10

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD

Yaz stood at her desk, jaw agape. "What?!"

Allen nodded grimly. "You were the last officer seen with them. Do you know where they were headed?"

"They were going to book the two who had created the meth lab at the station," Yaz supplied. "Did they get there?"

"No," Allen responded. "No one's heard a peep from them. I've tried calling both their mobiles multiple times, but I always end up reaching their answerphones."

"That's…strange."

"Yeah," the Inspector agreed. "Unfortunately, I don't have the contact information for their families, otherwise I would have already informed them of the situation."

"Did you inform dispatch?"

"Yeah. They put out an alert for the Yorkshire area, but no calls have come in yet."

Yaz frowned. "The only thing I can think of would be foul play," she remarked.

"Yeah, except dispatch never got a call reporting anything."

"What about the transponder on Nielsen's vehicle? Have they tried tracking it?"

"Not that I know of," Allen admitted. "I can have people look into that if it helps."

"With all due respect, Inspector, you're my superior, so it's your decision."

Allen nodded curtly. "Right. As you were, Constable." She turned, about to walk away, when she suddenly faced back towards Yaz's desk. "Right. I almost forgot. Check your email before you leave. Phoebe and I are inviting all the female officers over to her place tonight; you can bring a friend if you want."

"I can't drink," Yaz said firmly. "Nor can I drive at the moment. And…who's Phoebe?"

"Inspector Jefferson," Allen clarified. "Don't worry; sobriety's gonna be an option. After all, these people are likely to be drivin' themselves. I'm sure you'll be able to find a ride." She sighed. "It's because of the shit that went down this week. First Staffordshire, and now two of our own officers are AWOL. Most everybody's spirits are down right now."

" _That's_ why you two are doing this? To boost morale?"

"To try to, anyway," Allen affirmed, though she sounded just as downtrodden as Yaz. "I don't know how much morale will be boosted, but it's worth a shot, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You can email Jefferson and let her know what you're gonna do," Allen told her. "She sent the evite to everyone's inboxes."

"Great. Thanks."

Allen frowned, glancing back at the Constable. "What's on your mind, Constable?"

Yaz winced, covering her right eye as pain started to flare up again. "Shouldn't we be using the night to help search for Nielsen and Wagner instead? They're one of our own; we shouldn't just leave them by the wayside!"

Allen sighed. "As much as I'd like to agree, Yasmin, the mental states of a lot of officers in the Yorkshire area are shot to hell at the moment. Sunder's got his hands full at dispatch, and thanks to what happened this morning the Hallamshire Commissioner is getting more and more worried about these so-called Weeping Angels. I don't know if they're a street gang or whatever, but these people are extremely dangerous. Half the precinct's law enforcement is in turmoil. We don't have the luxury of time to waste scouring South Yorkshire for them or for our missing officers. Nor can we devote the entire police force to doing so. I'm sorry, Constable. What Phoebe's trying to do is likely the best for all of us."

Yaz shook her head. "That's not good enough. We took an oath to protect these people; and yet we're leaving two of our own behind!"

Allen put a hand on the Constable's shoulder. "I know you blame yourself, Yasmin," she said quietly. Her expression became stern. "But the decision to suspend the search is out of our hands."

"The Commissioner," Yaz realised.

Allen nodded. "Look," she said, sighing. The Inspector removed the hand from Yaz's shoulder. "I'm not thrilled about it either. But orders are orders, and there's not a whole hell of a lot we can really do about it."

"I understand." _Even though I don't like it._ The Constable changed the subject. "Any idea what the guys are doing?"

She shrugged. "Last I heard, they were still trying to decide on going to the pub tonight or having a football game over the weekend, or both."

"That's gonna be hard to do with a hangover," Yaz pointed out dryly.

"That's not my problem." She sighed. "Any ideas where they could be if not at the station?"

"No idea." Max's disturbing countdown popped into her head. "The male suspect—Max, one of the neighbours called him—was randomly counting down for some reason. It creeped all of us out."

Allen raised an eyebrow. "Counting down? From what?"

"From ten." Yaz shrugged. "It could be the meth."

Allen shook her head. "I hate to break it to you, kid, but meth usually causes people to go dangerously berserk, not count down out of the blue."

"How would you know?"

"I've had to deal with some meth busts over the past several years, Constable," Allen rebuked her. "None of them involved anyone that was high on it counting down. And that's not something I would find creepy."

"It's not the act itself, but the rate that creeped me out," Yaz clarified, covering her eye with her right hand. "It was like…one number every minute, I guess."

"You _guess?"_

"I didn't exactly have a stopwatch running," Yaz retorted.

Allen groaned. "We should have called the bomb squad. If it's what I _think_ it is, then they are seriously fu—"

"Constable?"

Yaz turned, noticing one of the interns at her desk. "Stefansson? How long have you been standing there?"

"I just got here," he admitted. "The Serge sent me over to check on that report."

"If you mean the one about the meth bust, my portion's done," Yaz told him.

Allen placed a stray hair behind her ear. "I guess I'd better let you get back to work. See you tonight, Constable?"

"Probably."

Allen nodded, satisfied, heading in the direction of dispatch. Stefansson raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she Inspector Nielsen's relief?"

"Yep." She sat back down. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"I was told that I would be working with you on a case study next week, concerning a doctor," Stefansson said, frowning. "The Serge said to go to you for the paperwork."

"What do you need?" Yaz asked.

"A consent form, for starters," he told her. "Ethics regulations dictate that I have to recognise the rights of the research participant, especially when it comes to human subjects research."

 _She's not human, but I'll let the Doctor inform him of that when she's ready. The rules should still apply to her regardless._ "I haven't started anything yet, so if you want to get working on it, you're more than welcome to."

The intern straightened. "Yes, ma'am." He adjusted his glasses. "When do you want them by?"

Yaz checked the clock on her computer. "I get off at nineteen hundred hours, so anytime within the next ninety minutes would be nice."

"Will do." Stefansson walked to what was evidently the direction of his desk, nonverbal cues indicating to Yaz that he was both nervous and excited.

Yaz sat back down, popping open a jar of acetaminophen for the first time that afternoon, swallowing the preferred amount. She re-capped the jar, placing her head in her hands. _When I told the Serge that I wanted the Doctor to be looked at, this wasn't initially what I had in mind. But there really isn't any other way to help her._

She activated the screensaver, leaning back into her chair as she felt the medicine kick in. The Constable checked the bus schedule what felt like moments later, finding that the public transport stop closest to the station had the bus arriving around 19:15. She had not been able to drive to the station that afternoon since her eye was swollen shut. Several hours later, that was still the case, even though it was healing.

 _It seems that the Doctor and I are both out of commission. Graham and Ryan aren't going to be thrilled when they find out about this._

"Constable Khan?"

Yaz sat upright, noticing Stefansson at her desk. "I'm awake!" She glanced at the intern. "How's the paperwork?"

"Finished," he said. The intern held something in his hand. "The Serge wanted me to get this to you."

Yaz took it, seeing that it was an eye patch.

"He talked to one of the ambulance drivers during his lunch break, and she said that this would help you heal faster." He watched her put it on, grinning when she finished. "You look great, ma'am."

Yaz smiled wanly. "Thanks." Her smile faded. "I'm going to talk with the Doctor when I get back to my flat, see if I can knock some sense into her. She needs to see somebody, even though she keeps denying it."

"Why doesn't she just go to A&E?"

"It's complicated."

"Gotcha." Stefansson gestured to the Constable's eye. "What happened, anyway?"

Yaz sighed. _I don't really want to talk about it, but it's something I have to do anyway._ "I took a shiner during the meth bust this morning."

"By what?"

"Weeping Angel."

Stefansson's eyes widened. "Weeping Angel? As in the statues that move?"

 _"Yes,"_ Yaz groaned, exasperated.

"Are they aliens?!"

"I—" Yaz frowned. The Doctor hadn't actually mentioned where they came from. "I don't know, actually," she admitted, curious. "It's possible." She checked the clock, cursing.

"Something wrong, Constable?" Stefansson asked.

"I must have fallen asleep right after the painkillers kicked in," she groaned. "I'm supposed to get off in eight minutes." Yaz glanced at him. "I guess you had figured that out, didn't you?"

"Actually, it was the Serge, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to wake you," the intern told her. "He said that once he saw the painkillers on your desk, it was obvious you needed the rest."

Yaz frowned. "Speaking of, where is the Serge?"

"He clocked out at six-thirty."

"I thought he had the night shift," Yaz mused.

Stefansson shook his head. "He had the graveyard shift this morning, on top of the afternoon shift. He did the former after you informed him about the meth bust."

"That couldn't be helped."

The intern nodded, getting up. "Thanks, Constable. Have a good night."

"You as well." Yaz logged back on to the computer, accessing her email. Sure enough, Jefferson's evite was sitting at the top of her inbox.

 _Tonight at 9:00,_ the Constable noted. _I suppose I can bring the Doctor along; she's been going stir-crazy after being cooped up in my flat for the past couple of days. It'll do her some good to get some human interaction in._

She clicked "going" on the evite, making note of the date, time, and address on a sticky note. After some tidying and logging off, she clocked out, walking towards the bus that would take her back to Park Hill.

* * *

OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE

Five days of hell.

That pretty much described it.

The Doctor leaned against the wall, stressed out. Although few people had come in over the past several days, reports of Dalek-related casualties came out every hour across the front lines. Every hour, he was worried that the list of the deceased that was broadcast would include the names Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Mike Yates, or John Benton.

As of right now, that did not appear to be the case.

Due to the relatively low influx of patients, the Doctor had been re-assigned to act as a medical consultant in the research department. Mostly, that had been going smoothly. Unfortunately, that did not mean that he'd had peace from Z-1. Even after a recharge, the robot had seemed to devote itself to driving the Time Lord completely insane by performing antics ranging from smoking in the research lab to doing satirical impressions of the Doctor himself.

"Doctor."

The Time Lord turned, seeing Erida near his desk. "There's someone here to see you," she told him.

He groaned. "If it's that blasted robot again, tell it to go away."

The Obsidinite was less than amused. "It's not him."

The Doctor sighed in relief. "In that case, let them in."

She nodded, gesturing for the being to come in. Clad in military fatigues, hair up tight in a bun, was his assistant.

The Time Lord stood, beaming. "Jo! Such a pleasant surprise!"

"Likewise," she responded enthusiastically.

Erida nodded, satisfied. "I'll give you two some privacy." She walked out the door, careful to avoid hitting the Doctor in the face with her tail.

"I haven't seen you in days, Jo," the Doctor remarked. "You look different."

Jo shrugged. "Apparently dresses weren't allowed in the dress code, so they gave me a change of clothes." She frowned. "The Obsidinites are quite strict with their military regulations, that's for sure." She gestured to her hair as proof. "How much do you know about them?"

"Other that they're an aggressive warrior race with reptilian ancestry and have a cultural system of respect based on seniority, almost nothing," the Doctor admitted.

"You've never been here before?"

"Nope."

Jo stretched. "So how's it been in the medbay? I heard you were reassigned."

"That's because there was hardly anybody to treat," the Doctor explained.

Jo raised an eyebrow. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Not when you're at war with the Daleks." He sighed. "Most worlds only last a few days against those monsters. What I don't understand is how the Obsidinites have managed to last _decades."_ The Doctor glanced up at her, deciding to change the subject. "I assume tactical is suiting you well."

"Surprisingly, yes," his assistant responded. "General Matri placed me in an advisory position, so I can't actually _do_ anything except weigh in on various air strategies."

"That's _actually_ something," the Doctor corrected her. "Any luck?"

"They said that casualties have decreased by five percent since we got here, so I guess that counts."

"It does in my book." _But it could also be a fluke._

Jo nodded. "In that case, I'll—"

"Doctor! Long time, no see!"

The Time Lord cursed, turning to face Z-1. "Yes, what is it? Did you come here to drive me crazy, or did you have actual business to inform me of?"

The robot folded its arms. "Well, _some_ body's in a touchy mood," it snarked. "Ordinarily I would waste no time in making sure your daily dose of insanity has been administered, but I was sent here under the threat of deactivation."

 _Now that, I would love to see._ "Sent here? By whom?"

"Someone you might refer to as 'the Brigadier.' Apparently, he's back, along with the other humans."

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD

"— _and coming up next on BBC World News—"_

The Doctor stirred, surprised to feel tears running down her face. _I must have fallen asleep while watching telly._ She turned off the television, gazing up at the ceiling. _Why am I crying? I could tell that I was dreaming just now, but it felt so incredibly long. It felt real._

The Time Lord got up from the sofa, deciding that she might as well do something that was somewhat productive. In this context, that included making tea at 4:17 in the afternoon.

 _What was that dream? I can't recall the details._

Several minutes later, she sat on the sofa, sipping the earl grey. The Time Lord turned on the telly, switching over from the news to Netflix.

"Shoot," she muttered. "I never did get the password."

She put the tea down on the coffee stand, walking over to the kitchen table. The Doctor grabbed her sonic, pressing the button.

Access granted.

"Sorry, Yaz," she apologised, knowing that she'd have some explaining to do once the Constable got back. "But I'm not about to sit through another several hours listening to whatever it is the Americans screwed up _this_ time."

Fifteen-ish minutes into an episode of _The Office,_ the power went out.

The Doctor groaned. _If there is another Weeping Angel in here, I am not sticking around to find out._ She grabbed the keys, exiting the flat. The Time Lord walked towards the TARDIS, groaning as she found herself locked out. "Why?"

" _Well, for starters, you can quit bitching about it."_

She turned. The TARDIS's external interface had activated…

…and taken the image of Tegan Jovanka.

The Doctor frowned. "Will you just let me in?"

" _Nope,"_ Tegan responded, refusing to look at the Doctor.

The Time Lord folded her arms. "Why not?"

" _Because I said so."_

"I really don't have time for this right now!" the Time Lord snapped.

" _Just leave me alone!"_

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

" _I could ask you the same question,"_ Tegan retorted.

"Tegan—"

" _I am not Tegan Jovanka. I am the TARDIS Interface."_

"Well, you're still Tegan to me," the Doctor grumbled.

" _I chose this image as the best medium to express my current mood."_

"I got that."

Tegan turned her back to the Doctor. _"And for the record, it wasn't a Weeping Angel. A goose flew into a power line. You're safe in that aspect."_

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

" _Now, seriously, Doctor,"_ Tegan added. The Doctor noticed that there was a distraught tone in the interface for the first time, one that was very similar to the real Tegan. _"Please leave me alone for a bit."_

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked, voice starting to fill with despair. "Please, tell me!"

Tegan's image switched off, and the TARDIS dematerialised as the Time Lord watched with hurt and confusion.

"Are you kidding me?!" she shouted into the parking lot, earning a few strange glances from nearby pedestrians.

 _You probably shouldn't be starting a scene._

The Doctor groaned, running towards the lift. _This week can't possibly get worse._

* * *

OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE

 _FIVE HOURS EARLIER…_

"Got any ideas?"

Lethbridge-Stewart looked ahead as the Daleks approached, gulping. "That's a _lot_ more than there were a little while ago."

Addeis sighed. "This shield can only hold but _so_ long."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

"Don't those things ever shut up?" Yates complained, flinching as another volley hit the already-weakened shield.

"Keep it together, Captain," the Brigadier advised. He, too, was getting uneasy, but was doing an arguably better job of masking it. They had been stuck on the front lines for the past five days, hiding behind the shield for the past three, and while casualties had gone down a little bit due to the Earthlings' advisement on front-line configurations and strategies, the Daleks had the tactical advantage…and twenty years' worth of bombardment to hide in.

"We've only got an hour before the shield collapses!" one of the Obsidinite soldiers shouted.

"Don't you have more power packs?" Addeis snapped.

"No; this is the last one!"

"You were supposed to bring _more,_ you incompetent shit!"

"I don't care _who's_ incompetent at the moment," the Brigadier lectured. "The only thing we're going to accomplish by your bickering is a better chance of getting _killed!_ "

"Sir, the Scout's got a point," Benton piped up. "We're not going to stand a chance without the shield!"

"I've had experience with the Daleks before, Benton, and most of them did not involve us hiding behind a superpowered shield," Lethbridge-Stewart said sternly. "That being said, I do not like our current odds."

"Should we retreat, then?"

Addeis bared her teeth. "Obsidinites don't run! Why do you think we've lasted for as long as we have?"

"And how many of your people have died for that?" Benton rebuked sharply.

The teenager refused to meet his eyes. Lethbridge-Stewart exchanged a look with the platoon leader. "Jouko. What is your assessment of the situation?"

The Obsidinite stood up to his full height, turning to one of the other Scouts. "Moreno! How many Daleks are we dealing with?"

"We just counted five hundred, sir!"

"There were only _fifty_ yesterday," Yates grumbled.

Lethbridge-Stewart groaned. _This is definitely not good._ "Jouko, I'm still waiting on that answer of yours."

The platoon leader was silent, letting out a sigh a few seconds later. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. He stiffened, raising his voice. "Fall back!"

The platoon stared back at him, evidently shocked. "Did he just say what he thought he said?" one whispered.

"He's nuts," Addeis muttered.

"We're fucked," said a third.

"We'll be even more fucked if we're caught in the open when that shield fails," Lethbridge-Stewart snapped.

"LISTEN UP!" Jouko bellowed. Everyone, even the Brigadier, fell silent. "Good. Now that I have your attention—and you _will_ pay attention, Addeis, or I swear to the gods you will be thrown into a disciplinary cell for insubordination."

Addeis did not look pleased, though the Brigadier found it difficult to determine if the teenager's displeasure stemmed from disagreement with her leader's orders or if it was from being singled out in front of everyone.

"We ain't running. We're surviving. There's a difference," Jouko said sternly. "It's better to head for a probable situation than die doing jack shit. We'll regroup and take on these bastards in greater numbers!"

Addeis raised her hand. "Am I allowed to ask one question?"

Jouko sighed. "For fuck's sake, Addeis. What is it?"

"How far to the rendezvous point?"

"Five miles," Moreno answered.

"What is our method of transportation?"

"That's two questions, Scout," Jouko snapped.

"With all due respect, man, I suggest you answer the question," the Brigadier cautioned.

"Why should I?" the platoon leader challenged. "That woman's been belligerent since she was conscripted! She never listens!"

"Because you idiots don't afford me the same respect!" Addeis retorted.

"You're still only a hatchling!" Jouko hissed. "Barely an adult! You're the youngest one here!"

"So what? Are my opinions not of equal value?"

"While there is the matter of rank, Scout, your point is still very much a valid one," the Brigadier said sternly, turning back to the platoon leader. "Answer the girl's question. NOW."

Jouko's tail lashed furiously, but he did not argue. "We don't know."

 _Come again?_ "The hell do you mean, 'you don't know'?" the Brigadier snapped.

"We didn't plan on a retreat!"

"Just like we didn't plan on five hundred Daleks showing up to the party," Benton grumbled. Several soldiers murmured in agreement.

"INCREASE FIREPOWER! MAXIMUM EXTERMINATION!"

The Brigadier turned around sharply, eyes widening upon seeing the Daleks open fire.

"Are you kidding me?" Yates shouted.

"This thing isn't exactly soundproof," Moreno deadpanned. "I reckon that with all the shouting they heard every damn thing we were bitching about."

"SHIELDS AT SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT!" a soldier hollered.

"Is there a silver lining in any of this?" Benton asked. Addeis pointed towards the sky. "It's night-time. And there are no storms."

"I think that will be more beneficial to the enemy, young one," the Brigadier said gently. "We need a new plan."

"SHIELDS AT SIXTY PERCENT!"

"Whatever you're thinking, Brigadier, I suggest you come up with something quick," Moreno warned.

"Moreno, need I remind you that I am in command?" Jouko said sharply.

"Who the fuck cares?" another soldier screamed. "We're not going to make it!"

"FIFTY PERCENT!"

"Rank still matters," the Brigadier told Jouko. "I can only advise; it is up to you to carry out the order."

Jouko lashed his tail a single time. "Start retreating! Meetra, you and the other technicians keep the shield running for as long as you can! You need to buy us as much time as possible!"

An Obsidinite woman with silver scales saluted. "Yes, sir!"

"Let's go!" Jouko hollered.

The Brigadier looked at the silver-scaled woman. "Thank you."

She gave him a quick nod. "It was my pleasure."

"Alistair! Let's go!"

"SHIELDS AT THIRTY PERCENT AND FAILING!"

"Alistair!"

The Brigadier ran through the other side of the shield, meeting the platoon on the other side. "Is that everyone?"

"Except for the technicians, yeah," Moreno said. He frowned. "Now what?"

Jouko pointed to a rock formation five metres in front of them. "There's a crag that leads to an underground cave system. With any luck, we can outrun the Daleks, but we'll have to block the entrance."

"How far underground are we talking?" Benton asked as they walked over there.

"A hundred metres deep, give or take." Jouko pointed to the crack. "Let's go!"

The Brigadier's ears picked up the sound of a loud explosion, followed by swift and aborted screams.

 _Damn._

"We're out of time!" he shouted. "Block the entrance! Hurry!"

"You heard him!" Jouko snapped. "Fire!"

Several soldiers obeyed, firing their weapons until the entrance was completely blocked and the tunnel was shrouded in darkness.

"Benton, Yates, do you happen to have torches on you?" the Brigadier asked.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison, switching them on. Lethbridge-Stewart followed suit, aiming his beam towards the entrance.

"What is that device in your hand?" Moreno asked curiously.

"An electric torch," Yates said. "Do none of you have any?"

Jouko shook his head. "Obsidinites can see in total darkness. We have no need for such crude dependencies."

 _Crude, my ass._ But, to be fair, the UNIT soldiers _did_ have 300-year-old technology with them-from the Obsidinites' perspective, anyway.

That was beside the point.

"We need to keep moving," the platoon leader announced, breaking the Brigadier out of his scrutiny. "I don't want to find out if the Daleks know where we are."

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded, gesturing for his men to follow. He didn't know how much time passed as they continued walking down the caverns in silence, but something told him that if the Daleks were going to go after them, they would have done so already.

"If I may ask, sir, how long have we been down here?" Benton asked.

"No idea," the Brigadier admitted. "My guess is sometime close to an hour." He glanced at the officer. "Do you have somewhere to be, Sergeant?"

"No, sir."

"Then I suggest you keep moving."

"Yes, sir. My apologies."

As the soldiers trekked further and further down the cavern, the obsidian structure got creepier and creepier. Lethbridge-Stewart couldn't tell if it was due to the amount of time they were down there or if they were being watched. As far as he knew, there were no Daleks chasing them.

"It doesn't look like we're being followed. Let's stop for a break," Jouko announced. "We leave again in two hours."

A murmur of "Yes, sir" sounded from the platoon. Judging from the sound of things, they were tired out—and the Brigadier couldn't blame them for being in that state.

Benton yawned. "Permission to take a nap?"

"Granted," said Lethbridge-Stewart. "I might just do the same." He glanced at his other officer. "Yates?"

"I'll sleep as well, if you don't mind, sir," Yates informed him, tiredness obvious in his voice.

"Very well."

* * *

" _Psst. Brigadier."_

Lethbridge-Stewart's eyes shot open. He reached for his torch, glancing around after turning it on. Yates and Benton were still asleep, along with most of the Obsidinite platoon. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

" _Alistair."_

The Brigadier sat up, confused. The only one here who had used his first name was Addeis, but a quick look her way told him that the teenager was sleeping. The voice was feminine, but while it carried a Northern accent, it sounded more like the user was from South Yorkshire than from Scotland.

"Who's there?" he whispered, trying not to wake anyone.

" _Look to your left, mate."_

He turned in that direction, seeing a woman in a light blue trenchcoat squatting down beside him. She pulled down her hood, revealing short blonde hair and a long silver ear cuff. Her hazel eyes glinted in the torchlight.

"Who are you?" he asked, cautious. He looked her up and down. "How the blazes did you get down here?"

" _Long story,"_ she said quietly. The Brigadier noticed that he could see the cave structure through her translucent form.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked.

She smirked. _"Hardly. More like a psychic projection. Ghosts are completely different."_

The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. "I'm not buying it."

The woman sighed. _"Okay. Let's get two things straight here: One, this isn't a dream. You are well and truly awake. Two, I am very much alive, and I'm not really here. And, to add a third thing, I'm not some figment of your imagination, so don't start thinking that you're going crazy, because you're not."_

"I don't even know who the hell you are!"

Her eyes glinted strangely. _"That's where you're wrong, mate. You know exactly who I am. You just…haven't met me yet. Not this me, anyway."_

The Brigadier's eyebrow raised again. "Is that right?"

She nodded.

Lethbridge-Stewart studied her closely, attempting to jog his memory, but coming up empty. "I hate to tell you this, but I have no idea who you are. So why not just tell me your name? Why all the secrecy?"

Her expression darkened slightly. _"As someone very close to me once said: 'Spoilers.'"_

The Brigadier noticed a fainter outline behind the woman, something…utterly chilling, for the lack of a better way to describe it.

The woman's brow furrowed. _"What?"_

Lethbridge-Stewart pointed. "Behind you."

She turned, standing up slowly. The woman backed up, stepping over him ever so silently. He glanced up, seeing a mix of dread and anger on her face.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

" _Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart,"_ she said quietly, keeping her eyes steady on whatever it was she was looking at. It didn't look like she'd blinked once in the past several seconds. She seemed familiar somehow, but that was impossible. But her mannerisms…

" _Listen to me,"_ she said, jerking him back to reality. Or what he _hoped_ was reality. _"When you get out of this cave, tell the Doctor that he is in terrible danger. Him, and every other being on this planet."_

"We are already fighting the Daleks," he told her, blatantly stating the obvious.

She clenched a fist, shaking. _"Mate, I'm afraid you've got much worse things than the Daleks to worry about now."_

He sighed. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" The Brigadier glanced up at her. "I'll let him know."

" _Thank you."_

He nodded, his expression turning quizzical. "What kind of danger, if I might ask?"

Tears were visible on the woman's face, and for the first time the Brigadier noticed that she was in pain. He stood, alarmed as he noticed wound marks on her neck. "Are you all right?"

" _Don't worry about me,"_ she whispered, voice low. _"Your Doctor—you must protect him with your life! You, Jo, Yates, and Benton—no matter what happens! Do you understand?"_

"Yes."

"Brigadier! Brigadier, _hey!_ "

He turned, seeing Benton shaking him by the shoulder. The Sergeant relaxed. "Good; you're awake. We're moving again, sir. It's about another half hour 'til we arrive."

"Yates?"

Benton gestured behind him. "He's with Addeis."

The Brigadier nodded, satisfied. He turned to his right, finding that the ghostly woman had vanished, along with whatever it was that had pissed her off.

"Sir?" Benton asked, confused. "What are you looking at?"

"Did you see her?" the Brigadier asked quietly.

"See who, sir?"

The Brigadier faced him. "A blonde woman."

Benton raised an eyebrow. "If you're referring to Jo Grant, she's back at the base."

"It's not her." The Brigadier rubbed the back of his head. "Funny thing is, this woman seemed strangely familiar."


	11. Chapter 11

Hi all! I'm finally back. I haven't been updating as much because of college, but here is Chapter 11! Enjoy!

-sousatayue

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD

"Yeah, Granddad, I know she's not okay," Ryan said exasperatedly. "It's not like you can just barely escape killer statues and shrug it off or something."

" _Did you talk with Yaz at all?"_

Ryan pulled the mobile away from his ear, grimacing. "Not yet. And why are you shouting?"

" _You're breaking up on my end,"_ Graham told him, just as loudly as before.

"The power's out. I'm lucky to even _have_ service," Ryan retorted. The familiar sound of alien engines startled him as he yelped in surprise.

" _Ryan?"_

"I'll call you back," Ryan said quickly, hanging up before Graham could protest. He turned, sure enough seeing the TARDIS materialise in the common area. He approached the ship, raising an eyebrow upon seeing no one emerge.

"Doctor?"

No response. Ryan knocked on the door, concerned. "Doctor, it's Ryan. Are you in there, mate?"

The door opened. Ryan walked inside the TARDIS and was immediately on edge. Not only was there no Doctor in sight, but the honeycomb lights were red where they were normally blue. He listened for the alarms— _Cloister Bells,_ the Doctor had dubbed them—but heard nothing.

"This is not good," he muttered. He grabbed his mobile, calling Yaz.

" _Ryan?"_

"Yaz," he said, sighing with relief. He heard garbled sounds on the other end. _A bus stop announcement?_ Likely. "Where the hell are you?"

" _I'm on my way home from work,"_ the Constable responded.

Ryan's brow furrowed. "You took the seven-fifteen from the precinct?"

" _Yeah."_

"Why not drive home like usual?"

Yaz sighed. _"Long story. Is everything okay?"_

"No idea," he admitted. "The power's out, and the TARDIS just materialised in my common area."

Yaz groaned. _"I_ told _the Doctor she shouldn't be piloting—"_

"The TARDIS piloted herself, Yaz."

" _So where's the Doctor?"_

"If I had to guess, back at your flat."

" _She'd better be."_ The Constable hung up, leaving Ryan alone in the ship. He shook his head, pocketing the mobile. "Great." He exited the TARDIS, shutting the door behind him.

"You can crash here," he told the ship. "But if the Doctor asks why you ended up here by yourself, you're the one that's gonna have to tell 'er."

The TARDIS whirred its gears—a response? Ryan couldn't tell, but he assumed it was one.

"You okay, mate?" he asked.

The TARDIS ground its gears—annoyed, Ryan guessed. He put his hands up in defence. "All right, calm down. I was just checking on you; it seemed like red alert was on or somethin'."

Much calmer gear whirring ensued this time. Ryan nodded, satisfied.

 _Hopefully the power comes back on soon. I've only got 23% battery left on my phone—and I'm bored._

* * *

The power did eventually come back on around 19:20 that evening. The Doctor grinned, turning on the telly. A minute of channel surfing eventually brought her to a channel that just started a screening of _Alien._

It really was as bad as the White-Haired Scotsman had thought it was.

The Doctor sighed. "I said it before, and I'll say it again: that's offensive."

"Well ex _cuse_ me," Yaz retorted.

The Doctor whirled around, flustered. "Sorry, Yaz. I didn't know you walked in. I was referring to the movie."

"What about it?"

"There's a horror movie called _Alien._ Seriously. Why did they have to call it that? Are you people _begging_ to be invaded?"

"You can take that up with Ridley Scott," the Constable muttered.

"Who?"

"Ridley Scott. He's the one who directed the _Alien_ movies," Yaz explained.

The Doctor groaned. "There's a whole _series?_ "

"Yep, your point?"

The Doctor stood up, annoyed by the film now to her back. _I was a lot better off watching Netflix._ "From an alien's perspective, it's just… _frustrating_ how _ignorant_ humans are sometimes. I—" She faltered, taking a good look at Yaz's face. An eye patch covered her right eye, and the Constable looked drained. "What happened to your eye?"

"Work," the Constable grumbled. "I can't drive, so I had to take the bus today. And the ride back was really driving me insane."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing really to talk about," Yaz told her. "Bus rides just are that way sometimes."

The Doctor had a feeling that the Constable really needed to vent. "Mind telling me what really happened to your eye?"

"Sure," Yaz said, "but do you want to tell me why Ryan called me on the way home about the TARDIS suddenly materialising in his common area?"

"She did what?"

"Mmm-hmm."

The Doctor sighed. "The TARDIS is very cross for some reason and is apparently avoiding me." She gave Yaz a hard look. "What about your eye?"

Yaz's left eye narrowed. "Remember that domestic I went out for this morning?"

"Yeah…"

"Turns out it was about the wife bringing home a Weeping Angel from the flea market and the husband going ballistic over the fact that it was moving. I had to call for backup after finding a _meth lab_ in their flat."

The Doctor groaned. "Great. Just what we needed." She glanced up at Yaz, who was unhappy about the Time Lord interrupting. "Sorry. Do go on."

Yaz folded her arms. "I didn't even know the Angel was there until it punched me in the eye, in the dark. Both of those idiots were high on methamphetamine. The husband flipped the Angel over the balcony after we pushed it out of the flat." She shook her head. "It was a mess."

 _By "those idiots," I assume she means the humans that were there._ The Doctor frowned. "How many died?"

"No idea."

"What do you mean, no idea?"

Yaz picked up the remote, muting the telly. She gave the Doctor a good, hard look. "We blew up the Angel, it was rendered inert, and the fire department removed it. But the other two officers that were with me are missing, along with the meth couple that we arrested, and I only just found _that_ out a few hours ago."

"Have you tried looking for them?"

"We're doing the best we can, but the police commissioner had us suspend the search. Apparently, he thinks the Weeping Angels are some sort of gang, and we can't afford to quote, 'waste officers on them until we can come up with a better solution,' unquote." One look at the Constable's face told the Doctor that she was less than thrilled.

"Maybe we can try looking for your missing officers?" the Doctor suggested. _And let me out of here. Please. I'm going stir crazy._

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "Without the TARDIS? Are you nuts?"

"Good point. And yes, I might be just a little bit nuts."

"Whatever." Yaz gestured to the telly. "Are you watching this?"

"Absolutely not."

"That bad, huh? Ok." Yaz picked the remote up again, switching it off. "How about this? One of my colleagues is having a ladies' night at her place, and she said friends were invited. Do you want to tag along?"

The Doctor grinned. "Definitely!" She frowned. "All my fancy outfits are in the TARDIS."

Yaz pulled up the evite on her phone. "Apparently it's casual dress." She glanced at the Doctor. "Do you want to drive?" The Constable's expression became sceptical. "You _can_ drive, right?"

"Of course I can," the Doctor said cheerfully, waving away the question. "I used to have my own car here back in the day. I called 'er Bessie."

"How far back was 'back in the day'?"

She shrugged. "Late 1960s, early 1970s."

"So basically what you're telling me is that you can drive stick shift, but when it comes to automatic?"

"I once drove a bus through a desert. I'll be fine. It's practically the same thing."

Yaz shook her head. "It's really not, but whatever." _Help me._ "We're leaving in a few minutes."

* * *

Yaz closed the car door, finding the Doctor already in the driver's seat. She grinned. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," the alien responded. "So…tell me more about this ladies' night."

Yaz buckled herself in. "Given what went down this week one of my superiors decided to invite all of the female officers in the precinct and any of their lady friends to her house to unwind."

"Sounds interesting. I can't blame her," the Doctor responded quietly.

They drove in silence after that.

 _PC Wagner. Inspector Nielsen. What happened to them? Also, what happened to the idiots with the meth lab?_

She sighed. _Just keep your eyes on the road, Yaz._

"Eight."

 _What the hell?_ Yaz's uninjured eye widened, a chill running down her spine. Yaz stared at her friend, hoping she had heard correctly. "Did you say something just now?"

"I don't remember. It's possible."

 _Is it just me, or does she sound…worse?_ She looked at the alien closely, seeing that she was paler than normal. "If you're not feeling up to it, Doctor, I can always cancel."

"I'm fine."

Yaz raised an eyebrow, deciding it was probably a smart idea not to argue. "If you say so."

Once again, silence. Yaz turned on the radio, relaxing once she found a song she liked.

 _Just a few more minutes,_ the Constable told herself.

She snuck a quick glance at the Doctor while they were stopped at a red light. The alien didn't seem to be in pain, even though she wasn't fully healed. But what happened moments earlier was eerily similar to Max's random countdown.

 _That can't be a coincidence,_ she told herself. _Max was high._

" _I've had to deal with some meth busts over the past several years, Constable,"_ her superior had rebuked. _"None of them involved anyone that was high on it counting down. And that's not something I would find creepy."_

Meredith Allen was _definitely_ wrong on that part, in Yaz's opinion.

The light turned green, and they kept going.


	12. Chapter 12

SHEFFIELD

18 JANUARY 2019, 05:26

Tanaka Hiromi—or Hiromi Tanaka, depending on whether one spoke Japanese or English—made a habit of jogging at five-something in the morning. The Sheffield air was crisp and cool, and her girlfriend, Maria Hendricks, was by her side.

Besides, exercise was a good way to stay healthy.

That morning, however, jogging became the last thing on her mind after finding a dead deer on their path.

"It was probably hit by a car," Maria suggested. She switched on the flashlight on her mobile, revealing an erratic set of tire tracks.

"So where's the car?" Hiromi asked, curious.

"Where do you think?" Maria countered. "Look at the tracks."

Hiromi looked, noticing that they went down into the valley. A closer look found a sedan flipped onto its roof.

"Over there!"

Maria stood, raising an eyebrow. "I'll go check it out. You call the police."

Hiromi tilted her head. "Are you sure you will be ok, Maria-chan?"

Maria kissed her swiftly on the lips. "I'll be fine. I'm CPR-certified, so if anyone's hurt bad I'll do what I can for them."

Maria was also in medical school—just like Hiromi's older brother, Tanaka Kenji. Hiromi relaxed. "All right. Be careful."

Hiromi dialled 999 while Maria went to check the wreckage. After being reassured that ambulatory services were on their way, the call ended on the dispatcher's side. Hiromi placed her mobile in her bum bag.

"Help is coming, Maria-chan!" she announced.

No response.

 _That's weird._ Hiromi walked towards Maria's location, frowning. "Maria-chan?"

Still no reply. The Japanese-British woman finally arrived at the wreckage, noticing that the vehicle in question was local police. There were people inside the vehicle, but whether they were unconscious or worse was unknown.

And there was still no sign of Maria.

Hiromi took out her mobile, activating the flashlight. Maria was nowhere to be found. All that was present was her, the people in the wreckage, and an angel statue that definitely looked out of place.

"Maria, where the bloody hell are you?" Hiromi bellowed. "This isn't funny!"

Still nothing. Hiromi turned, seeing that she had no service. What's more, her battery was down 30% from where it was a minute earlier.

 _Good thing I brought my charger,_ she thought.

The angel statue from earlier looked to have changed positions, and was now a lot closer to her. Tanaka Hiromi had the sinking feeling that it was neither friendly nor a statue. She turned her back on it, running back up the hill—

—and into a crowded train station.

Hiromi frowned, checking the date and time on her mobile.

18 January 2019, 14:41

 _Huh,_ she mused. _It was five-something in the morning a couple of minutes ago._

"The next train will be arriving in three minutes," a voice announced over the intercom.

Hiromi's head perked up. That voice was speaking in Japanese. She checked the weather forecast for her current location.

Yes, it was cold. But it wasn't the temperature that bothered her, but the location.

 _Tōkyō-to._

Somehow, in the span of a second, she had been spirited away from England to Japan.

And she didn't have her passport.

* * *

DOWNTOWN SHEFFIELD

18 JANUARY 2019, 20:57

"Yasmin!"

Yaz shook Allen's hand as her superior opened the door. "Hello, Inspector."

Allen glanced at the Doctor. "Meredith Allen," she said, holding out a hand.

The alien shook it. "The Doctor," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."

"You as well." Allen dropped her hand, a puzzled look on her face. "But…Doctor _who,_ might I ask?"

The blonde shrugged. "Just the Doctor."

Allen looked at Yaz, who gestured for the Inspector to drop it. Thankfully, her superior got the message, gesturing for both women to come inside.

"How's your injury, Yasmin?" Allen asked, shutting the door behind them.

Yaz shrugged. "Annoying."

The Inspector let out a sharp bark of laughter. "An honest response, if I ever heard one." She gestured to a set of hooks on the wall. "Coat rack's over 'ere, if you want to put your stuff down. I'll let Phoebe know you've arrived."

Allen left the room. The Doctor put her coat and scarf on the rack, a puzzled look on her face. "Who's Phoebe?"

"The other Inspector who decided to throw this party," Yaz explained.

Allen came back over, tying an apron around her waist. "Come on in," she encouraged. "Enjoy the fun!"

 _Gladly._ Yaz smiled, making brief conversation with several of her female colleagues. Most questions were about her eye, but others were about the Doctor.

"Where did you find such an eccentric gal?"

"Is she from around here?"

"How long have you two known each other?"

"Is she single?"

Amongst other questions. Allen had made Yaz some hot cocoa with peppermint, which she drank gratefully. Other officers drank beverages ranging from water to eggnog to wine. But only a few had the latter beverage.

Yaz found the Doctor enjoying herself, pouring some eggnog. "Having fun?"

"I'll say," the alien responded, which Yaz took as a yes. "This beverage looks strange. What is it?"

"That's my own nog recipe," Allen announced, walking over. "Have you had eggnog before, love?"

"I can't say that I have," the Doctor said. "Not in this life, anyway."

Allen laughed. "Well then, you're in for a treat!" She turned to her underling. "You want any, Yasmin?"

"Does it have alcohol in it?" the Constable asked cautiously.

"Not this one, no."

"Then I'll have a little."

Allen poured the Constable half a mug's worth of nog, handing it to her before returning to the rest of the party.

The Doctor held up her mug in a toast. "Cheers!"

Yaz responded likewise, their cups clinking. "Cheers!"

Both women downed their respective beverages. Yaz found the nog very creamy, and decided that half a cup was enough for her.

The Doctor, on the other hand, looked to have downed the whole thing.

"This stuff tastes great," she told Yaz.

The Constable nodded, remembering Sunder's concerns. Is she really okay, or is she just doing a good job of hiding it?

"Something on your mind, Yaz?"

Yaz looked the Doctor straight in the face. "Yeah, there is, actually." She put the nog mug down on the counter. "Sunder's still pretty worried about you. He wants one of the interns to take a look at you and check you out since you can't really check yourself into A&E."

The Doctor considered this. "I guess it's alright. Who's the intern?"

"Oslo Stefansson. He's a fifth-year senior majoring in Neuroscience."

"Undergraduate?"

"Yep. He's really into the whole sci-fi stuff, especially _Star Trek,_ so I'm sure you two will get along fine."

"So long as he keeps quiet about me being alien," the Doctor warned.

"He will," Yaz reassured her. _I'll beat the crap out of him if he doesn't._

The Doctor sighed. Yaz raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be proud of being alien."

"I didn't say that I wasn't," the Doctor retorted. "But the amount of stuff I've done on my homeworld would be more than enough to get me arrested. I've already _been_ arrested, in fact. More than once."

"You might want to keep that part to yourself, considering you're the only one here who isn't police," Yaz warned.

"Noted."

The next half hour or so was relatively uneventful. Most of what occurred involved talking with fellow officers. The Doctor, meanwhile, looked to be working on her small talk, but seemed to be failing miserably.

"Is your friend doing alright, love?" Phoebe asked some time later, concerned. Yaz raised an eyebrow. "I mean, she got hurt earlier this week, but she seems to be better. Why do you ask?"

The Inspector frowned, gesturing towards the kitchen. "She doesn't look too good."

Yaz glanced over the Doctor's way, seeing the alien looking somewhat pale as she drank what looked to be more eggnog.

"Maybe she overdid it on the nog?" Yaz suggested, though worry was present in her voice. She flitted a brief look at her superior. "I'll go talk to her."

Phoebe nodded, relieved. "Thanks, Constable."

Yaz walked over to the kitchen, placing her cocoa on the island next to her. The Doctor was leaning on the counter next to the oven.

"You good, mate?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," the Doctor muttered dully. "I guess five cups of eggnog was a bit much."

Yaz let out a sharp bark of laughter. " _Five?_ I can barely scarf down _one._ "

"I'll go find the toilet."

Yaz nodded. "You do that." She noticed the alien vanish up the stairs, clutching her stomach.

 _The Doctor's probably gonna have a_ long _night._

Allen walked over, huffing after opening and immediately closing the refrigerator. "Your friend really did a number on my eggnog, that's for sure."

Yaz smirked. "Yeah. And now she's paying for it in your upstairs bathroom."

Both women laughed, pondering the Doctor's nog predicament. Allen shook her head, tears of laughter sliding down her face. "That's the hardest I've laughed all month!" She sighed, controlling herself. "I'll go make the Doc some tea. Do you know what she likes?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine with whatever, so long as it calms an upset stomach," Yaz responded, though it took everything she had to maintain a straight face.

Schadenfreude was one-sided, that's for sure.

"Fair enough." Allen warmed the kettle, dragging an assortment of teas from the cabinet next to her. Her mobile rang just as she was about to close the door. She put it on the counter, answering.

"Inspector Allen."

Yaz heard frantic garbling on the other end. "Jason, calm down," Allen said placatingly. " _What_ about your mother?"

More frantic garbling. Allen's eyes widened. "Oh, geez. Where are they?"

Again, more garbling. "All right," Allen responded. "I'm on my way over."

The call ended. Yaz frowned. "Is everything all right?"

"Hardly," Allen said, her voice dark. "That was Nielsen's teenage son. Apparently his mum and Wagner were transported to Sheffield Hallam A&E early this morning."

"How come we didn't hear about it sooner?"

"Confidentiality and paperwork."

"Are they okay?"

Allen shook her head. "Far from it. They were in an automobile accident on the way to the station. It's bad."

Yaz straightened, alarmed. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I can handle it. You take care of your mate." Allen flashed her a grateful look. "Thanks for asking, though."

Yaz nodded, though she knew that both of them needed all the help they could get in this matter.

* * *

SHEFFIELD

18 JANUARY 2019, 01:30

"Everybody in?" Nielsen asked, glancing at Wagner. The junior officer nodded, and Nielsen drove the squad car out of the parking lot as Max uttered "three."

Nielsen sighed. "Any idea who these two are?"

"According to the database, the guy is Max Gentry, age twenty-nine, no previous criminal history. Just this charge of possessing Class I drugs," Wagner informed her. "The ginger is his wife, Erika Lane Gentry, twenty-eight years old, history of speeding violations, and now we've got one count of Class I drug possession and at least five counts of domestic battery."

The Inspector braked at a red light. She turned back to the booked couple. "What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"Suck it," Erika growled.

Max stayed silent.

Nielsen glanced at Wagner, shrugging. The light turned green, and she resumed the drive.

"I hope you two realise we have to take down that meth lab of yours, whether you like it or not," Wagner said.

"Two," Max responded.

Nielsen raised an eyebrow. _The hell is he playing at?_ "Missus Gentry," she said, raising her voice, "any idea why your husband suddenly decided to count down from ten?"

"No," the ginger responded. Nielsen had a feeling she was telling the truth and dropped the conversation at that.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Wagner said apprehensively. "Why are we driving with the windows down again?"

"Because you smell like shit," Erika muttered.

Nielsen nodded. "She gets it."

"Whatever."

"One," Max responded, slurring.

"You good, love?" Erika asked, concern in her voice. Max did not respond. Nielsen flitted an apprehensive glance at Wagner. "Do I _want_ to know what happens when he hits zero?"

Wagner groaned. "I know I don't. Let's just get these two to the station and hit the pub."

"It's one thirty-two in the morning, Carl."

"So?"

"So," Nielsen said sternly, "I've got the afternoon shift, and that means I need sleep and caffeine. You can get lit all you want, mate, but don't blame me if you show up to work wearing sunglasses indoors because of a hangover."

"We'll worry about that later, Inspector."

Wagner sighed. "We're about another ten, fifteen minutes from the station. I hate to be the boys on the graveyard shift all mornin'—"

"Zero," Max whispered, so softly that Nielsen could barely pick it up. She kept her eyes on the road, though something in her gut told her something was very wrong.

The feeling was only confirmed when Erika started screaming.

"HELP HIM!" she howled. "HE'S NOT BREATHING! MAX! MAX, HOLD ON! MAX—WHAT THE _FUCK?!_ "

Wagner whirled around, likely to tell her how to resuscitate him, but no response came.

Nielsen tensed. "What's going on? OD?"

Wagner gulped. "Uh, Carrie? We have a problem."

 _No shit we have a problem._ "Constable Wagner, did he OD or not?"

"I don't bloody know! Look in the rearview mirror!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Nielsen muttered. She glanced at the mirror…

…and immediately regretted it.

Max was very much dead, but Nielsen's heart rate quickened when she saw him open an eye.

And then saw something start to escape from it.

Max's corpse looked as though it seemed to be morphing, for the lack of a better word, into something utterly monstrous.

"Holy fuck," she breathed, terrified. _What is happening? I—_

"DEER!"

Nielsen looked up just in time to see the animal in front of the car. She braked, but the mechanism wouldn't respond. The car swerved off the road, and everything went black.

* * *

18 JANUARY 2019, 23:59

" _She's coming 'round."_

" _Finally."_

Nielsen opened her eyes, flinching at the brightness assailing her. _Where am I?_ Her eyes widened in alarm. _Wagner._ She tried sitting up but encountered a far more frightening problem.

 _I can't feel my legs._

"Mum?"

She turned her head, vision focusing on her teenage son. Next to her sat Inspector Allen, her relief at the station. Nielsen's eyes softened. "Hi, sweetie," she whispered, shocked to find her voice raw.

"Carrie," Allen said quietly, "do you remember anything that happened?"

The Inspector racked her brain, trying to remember, but only found bits and pieces. "Constable Wagner?"

"He suffered a mild concussion and a broken arm, but he'll be okay," Allen informed her. "It's you I'm worried about."

Nielsen's eyes narrowed. "Well, I kind of figured out that I'm paralysed, so I guess that means my job is toast."

"That's for the higher-ups to decide," Allen said firmly. Her expression changed, and she looked very tired. "The hospital staff said that an ambulance was called around five-thirty this morning, but whoever called it in was gone when they got there. The technicians only found you, Wagner, and Erika Gentry, who died at the scene." She sighed. "The thing I'm confused about is why the _hell_ A&E didn't contact the precinct."

"Confidentiality?" Nielsen's son suggested.

"Yeah. But still, it's an internal police matter, and we needed to be alerted to it regardless."

Nielsen glanced at her fellow officer. "There should have been a second body."

The teenager stared. "What do you mean, Mum?"

 _I don't know if he should be around for this._ "Please leave the room."

The boy just stared at her like that deer in her headlights. "But Mum—"

"Jason Alexandre Nielsen, don't argue," the elder Nielsen snapped. She relented. "There are some details that Meredith and I need to discuss in private. Now, please, _go._ "

Jason wordlessly left the room, though Nielsen could see the clear displeasure on his face.

Allen gave her a hard look. "All right, Carrie. We _did_ find a second body about an hour ago, when we were searching the car, but it was practically unidentifiable. I'm having the coroner look at it when his shift starts tomorrow night. But seriously. What the hell happened?"

The Inspector groaned. "I saw a deer and lost control of the bloody vehicle."

Allen raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Nielsen shook her head. Allen sighed. "Carrie, you know I have to report this. And there's clearly something you're not telling me. I get it; you just woke up at A&E with a spinal injury. But I need to know what's happened; we've all been worried sick."

Nielsen gave her a hard look. "Max passed out. We thought he OD'd, but—" She faltered, becoming distressed from having to remember what happened next.

"Carrie, calm down," Allen said seriously, but not unsympathetically. "What happened?"

It was a minute or so before Nielsen calmed down enough to talk, but she was still terrified out of her wits. "Max wasn't Max anymore."

"You know meth does that to people."

Nielsen blinked, trembling. "No; It was something much, much worse."


	13. Chapter 13

19 JANUARY 2019, 13:01

SHEFFIELD

Ryan checked his watch for the third time that afternoon, getting antsy as there was still no sign of the Doctor.

"I'll give her five more minutes," Ryan muttered. _Then I'll call Yaz since I don't know the Doctor's number—if she even has a mobile._

The door to the café swung open, and the Doctor walked in, looking flustered.

"Hi, Ryan. Sorry about that," she said, apologising. "The TARDIS still isn't letting me in, so I had to hail a taxi."

"Not your preferred method of transportation then?" he presumed.

"Nope," the alien muttered. " _And_ we got stuck in traffic, which, let me tell ya, was a _real_ pain in the arse. Very expensive." She shrugged. "Shall we?"

After a few minutes of standing in line, Ryan and the Doctor finally got around to ordering their food.

"I'll pay," Ryan told the alien. He ordered a coffee and a chicken sandwich, and the Doctor got tea and a fried egg sandwich.

"Seven," the alien blurted.

Ryan checked the total, raising an eyebrow. "It's just over eleven pence, mate," he told her. "Where the hell did you get seven?"

The Doctor stared at him, confused. "I didn't say seven."

"Actually, you did," the barista interjected. "Will that be all for you?"

"Yeah," Ryan responded in an effort not to hold up the line. He paid the barista the total—£11.69—and let the Doctor find a table.

"Sir?"

Ryan turned, seeing the barista who had taken their order. "Yeah?"

The dude—wearing a nametag that said "Keith"—looked concerned. "Your friend doing ok?"

"No idea," Ryan admitted. He turned back to the barista. "I'm glad it's not just me."

He walked to the table, sitting next to the Doctor. She was eerily quiet, a troubled expression on her face.

"Doctor?"

She looked up, smiling widely. "Hello, Ryan."

"Don't put on that masque with me," he said sternly. "You and I both know that you're not doing ok."

The alien was silent for a moment. "Ten, nine, eight, seven," she counted. "One number a day. Tomorrow it's probably gonna be six."

"A countdown?" Ryan asked, though he knew the answer was obviously "yes." "Why though?"

The alien's lip curled. "I have a theory, but I really don't like it."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Ryan frowned. "What if you're right?"

There was a dangerous glint in her right eye. "Then things are really going to get ugly."

Ryan folded his arms. "So what is it that you're thinking?"

Their order number was called, abruptly ending the conversation. The Doctor went up to grab their meals, leaving the former warehouse worker to ponder what she meant by that.

* * *

19 JANUARY 2019, 22:27

SHEFFIELD HALLAM A&E, IMAGING WING

For the umpteenth time that week, Oslo Stefansson was really starting to think his university practicum with the police had become a lot less boring.

And more like an adventurous sci-fi experience.

Or was that horror?

He couldn't tell.

Under a technician's supervision, Oslo checked the PET imaging machine, frowning. He loved his job with the police, and Sergeant Sunder was a great boss, but he hadn't expected to be focusing on anything super weird.

 _Well…_

The coroner thought it had been a good idea for the intern to study the neurobiology of Max Gentry post-mortem, not only since he was one of Oslo's professors, but also since the reports that Inspector Nielsen and PC Wagner had provided earlier that day had an alarming degree of weirdness. Oslo had initially been sceptical, especially since Wagner was still concussed at the time, but Nielsen's report was identical to the Constable's.

Since Oslo was a neuroscience major, it made a great degree of sense. And he was curious.

But nothing about what he had found was anything he could understand.

The intern ran the Positron-Emission Tomography for the third time that evening, finding the same thing once again: the occipital lobe was still exhibiting strange impulses…

…in a body that had been dead for well over a day.

"What the hell?" he breathed, confused. The intern deactivated the machine, pulling Max's body out. The smell was revolting.

 _Not my fault,_ he told himself. _That's probably normal._

He was _definitely_ going to need a shower before returning to his flat.

"Any luck, Stefansson?"

Oslo turned, seeing the coroner walk in. The man was balding, looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with pale skin—much in contrast to Oslo's own dark brown skin colour—a thick beard and a beer belly. Given his job, Oslo couldn't blame the guy for the alcohol habit, even though he knew it was bad for him.

"I think the machine's malfunctioning," Oslo told him, as the technician walked out of the room.

The coroner raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Oslo gestured to Max's body. "I ran three separate tomographies, and all of them showed neural impulses still active in a corpse."

"Which area?"

"Striate cortex."

"Huh." The coroner stroked his beard thoughtfully, looking closely at the corpse's eye for a good moment. "Let's get this machine cleaned up. Then we can try 'er on me, just to make sure she's working properly."

"Are you _sure_ we're authorised to do that?"

"We are. I'm supervising you."

"Okay." Oslo looked back at him, sceptical. "Did you find anything?"

"I found a strange image in his eye," the coroner admitted. "Probably the last thing the poor bloke saw before he died."

Oslo frowned, racking his head for stuff he learned about in his major classes. "His biochemistry must have been badly corrupted, then," he mused. "He also had meth in his system, but I doubt it would cause anything like that. It could have been the result of an occipital lesion, but I've never heard of a case where something like this happened."

"Ten," the coroner said, nodding.

 _Ten? Last I checked, I wasn't getting marks on this particular assignment._ "Sir?" Oslo asked, cautious.

"Yes, Stefansson?"

"What was the image, if I might ask?"

"It looked like the statue of an angel staring straight at me—that is, until I blinked. Come see for yourself."

Oslo frowned, walking over. He glanced at it, seeing an afterimage of a stone angel with its eyes covered, but it spooked him so much that he scooted backwards after a couple of seconds.

The coroner glanced at him. "Too creepy for you?"

Stefansson nodded, gulping. _Did that thing move?_

"Nine," the coroner said.

The intern felt goosebumps running along his arms but forced himself to stay calm. _Something's not right here._

"Are you all right, Stefansson?"

Oslo nodded, though a feeling of cold dread gnawed through the pit of his stomach. "Yeah," he said shakily. "Let's get the machine running."

The two wiped down the machine, the coroner counting down from eight to seven to six before they finished.

"All right," Oslo said, doing his best to remain calm. "Let's get this thing running."

The coroner nodded, muttering "five" as he stepped inside. Oslo switched on the machine, neural images downloading from the mechanical behemoth.

 **Scan Complete.**

"You can step out now," Oslo announced.

The coroner emerged, muttering "four." The intern looked at him, concerned. "Dr Conahan, how much did you drink before work?"

"Nothing," he informed the intern. "I've been sober for the past week." He looked directly at Oslo, frowning. "Are you sure you're alright, Stefansson?"

Oslo backed up, flinching severely once he got a good look at the coroner's right eye.

And saw the same image that was embedded in the eye of a corpse.

And like Max had allegedly been doing according to Nielsen's report, the coroner was counting down.

 _That can't be a coincidence…can it?_

"Stefansson?"

Oslo gulped, nodding feverishly. "I-I'm fine, sir," he lied. He gestured to the exit. "I'm gonna take a leak."

"Three—go ahead. I'll clean up here."

Oslo bolted, arguably the fastest he'd ever run, ignoring calls from multiple nurses telling him to walk in the hallway. He ran into the restroom, panting.

 _What the hell was that?!_

He tried putting logic to the matter. There was an afterimage of an angel in Max's eye. Max had counted down from ten, and then died in a car accident shortly after leaving Park Hill. Did he overdose on methamphetamine? Unknown, but that remained to be seen as they still had to perform an autopsy. The coroner looked Max's corpse in the eye. He started counting down from ten, and the same afterimage of an angel was present in his eye. The coroner was sober.

So what was going to happen to the coroner—and to Oslo himself?

The intern frantically checked his reflection, relieved to find there was no such image in his own eyes. But he had also looked Max in the eye—why was he unaffected?

 _Just be glad that you are,_ he told himself seriously.

Oslo heard the lavatory door open and shut behind him, but the sound of footsteps was absent. He gulped.

 _Don't turn 'round don't turn 'round don't turn 'round—_

He looked up in the mirror, terror overtaking him as he saw an angel statue bearing down behind, fangs bared in an evil contorted expression as it looked straight into the mirror.

 _Is this a Weeping Angel?_

Oslo ducked, dodging the statue as he bolted out of the lavatory, not anxious to find out if he was right. The intern shut the door behind him, locking it from the outside. He couldn't tell if it was trying to get out, but he wasn't taking his chances.

"Professor Conahan," he breathed, running to the imaging area. _Please be okay, please be okay, please—_

One look at the coroner's body caused the intern to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

His corpse was eerily similar to Max's and looked as though all of the energy had been sucked out of it. In addition, the PET machine looked to be offline.

Oslo gulped, gingerly walking towards the corpse. Sure enough, the afterimage of a stone angel was there, very similar to the one that had snuck up on the intern in the bathroom.

"That bastard did _this?_ " he whispered, shaken. Oslo put on some gloves and closed the coroner's eyes, and Max's too. _This doesn't need to happen again._

Oslo exited the room, shaking as he screamed for help. Nurses came running, gasping at what happened. The intern described what he'd found, pleading with them not to open either corpses' eyes. Some didn't believe him, chalking it up to shock, though neither corpse was desecrated.

Oslo slumped down against the wall, sobbing in grief. _Why is this happening?_

 _Why did he have to die?_

"Messer Stefansson?"

Oslo looked up, seeing one of the nurses standing in front of him, wearing a hazmat protection suit. The guy didn't look that much older than Oslo himself—maybe about three to four years at most.

"Yeah," he whispered, voice trembling.

"I've called the police," the nurse informed him.

Oslo glanced up, physically shaking. "I didn't do that to him!"

"I believe you," the nurse reassured him. "Nobody thinks it's your fault. But we really need to get you to decontamination." He sighed, placing a shock blanket over the intern's shoulders. "You think it's really one of those Weeping Angels?"

Oslo nodded.

The nurse frowned. "Can I trust you?"

"Sure."

It took a moment for the nurse to respond. "It's not just here. Weird things have been happening with those things—deaths, disappearances, who knows what else." The nurse glanced at him. "You work for the police, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm just an intern."

"Still counts." The nurse held out a hand, helping him up. "Oslo, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Kenji Tanaka. I'd say it was nice to meet you, but given the circumstances, that might not be a good idea right now."

"You look a bit young for a nurse," Oslo commented.

Kenji shrugged. "I'm in my third year of med school. You?"

"I'm still in undergrad."

"What year?"

"Fifth-year senior. Neuroscience major." He glanced at the nurse. "Do you normally get weird shit like this?"

"Nope," Kenji admitted. "They didn't teach us anything about this in class."

"Same here." Oslo wiped tears off his face. Kenji gave him a sympathetic look. "I take it you knew the guy?"

"He was one of my chem professors," Oslo said quietly. "And a pretty damn good one too."

"Sorry."

Oslo blinked., a stray thought crossing his mind. _PC Khan has done weird cases before. Maybe—_

"You good, mate?"

The intern glanced up at him. "I think I might know someone who can help us."


	14. Chapter 14

20 JANUARY 2019

SHEFFIELD

Yaz was not at all happy to get called back into work for an emergency meeting at five a.m., especially when the topic under discussion was cryptically vague. After catching an early-morning bus to the precinct, the Constable clocked in, closing the door to the meeting room behind her. Among those present were Stefansson, Inspector Allen, Phoebe, Sergeant Sunder, and two other officers Yaz didn't recognize.

"PC Khan," Allen greeted her. "Your eye doing any better?"

"It's healing," Yaz admitted. _I'll feel a lot better when I stop taking painkillers on a daily basis._

"Regardless of how your eye is doing, we need you more than ever on the cases involving these Weeping Angels," Sunder said sternly. "There was another incident last night, this time at Sheffield Hallam A&E."

 _Sheffield Hallam A &E? _"Isn't that where Nielsen and Wagner were transported to?" Yaz asked, unease obvious in her voice.

"Yes," Allen confirmed. "They're fine—in that they weren't involved in that particular incident. We've placed police details on them and on Nielsen's son as a precautionary measure."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think that will help them all that much," Yaz warned.

"I agree with the Constable on this one," Stefansson piped up. From what Yaz could tell, the intern looked exhausted.

Yaz glanced up at the Sergeant. "What are the details?"

"One fatality, in the imaging unit," Stefansson informed her. "John Conahan, the coroner. He had a strange image in his eye right before he died, the same as with Max Gentry's corpse. In the exact same place, too." He frowned. "It looked like a stone angel. When I looked at it, it had its eyes covered."

"A Weeping Angel?" Yaz asked, frowning. "You're certain?"

"Unfortunately."

"We've also got two more missing persons," Sunder added, passing a couple of files Yaz's way. "Hiromi Tanaka, age twenty; and Maria Hendricks, age twenty-one; both Sheffield locals. Their last known location was where Nielsen's police vehicle crashed."

Yaz's uninjured eye narrowed. "When did they go missing?"

"According to dispatch, Tanaka made the call around 5:30 a.m. on the eighteenth of January," Sunder responded. "Looks like foul play."

"Her older brother called in the missing persons case last night, along with the coroner's death," Stefansson added.

Allen glanced at them. "I don't like any of this. This is the sixth reported incident in the past week that involves either missing persons or strange deaths—and in this case, both. It's the same: Weeping Angels, not a street gang like a lot of people previously thought they were, but now discovered to be creatures of stone that seek to prey on mankind."

"What did the Commissioner say when you told him earlier this morning?" Sunder asked.

Allen scoffed. "He said, and I quote, 'If they're not human, they're not our business.'"

"Like hell they're not!" Stefansson protested, slamming his fist on the table. "People have _died,_ and several of our own officers have been seriously injured by those things, including PC Khan!"

"It's only a black eye, mate," Yaz corrected him.

"Which you should get looked at, Constable," Allen said sternly. "It's been a few days, and you're still using that blasted eye patch. That's not a good sign."

"I'll be fine."

Allen scoffed. "Fine, my arse. There's a chance it could be infected. Go to A&E and get it checked out. That's an _order,_ Constable."

"I'll do it when I check out the crime scene for the coroner's death," Yaz compromised.

Sunder coughed loudly.

Yaz straightened. "With all due respect, sir, it's in the same area."

"Under no circumstances will you be going in alone," Phoebe said sternly. "Take Stefansson with you."

 _I am definitely bringing the Doctor in on this as well._ "Yes, ma'am."

Allen folded her arms. "We'll need to keep this between us and whoever else we bring in on this case. The reason being, these creatures are a risk to every man, woman, and child in Sheffield and, because of that reason alone, I disagree with the Commissioner's decision."

"What if we get caught?" Sunder asked.

"Then we face disciplinary action or, worse, lose our jobs," Allen responded bluntly. "Meeting adjourned. Let's get this shit-show over with."

* * *

OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE

Even after another week of strategy meetings and a whole slew of tactical errors from their side, it was becoming more and more apparent that this war was not going to be won anytime soon.

Certainly not by the Obsidinites.

The front lines were becoming exponentially more dangerous as each day passed. Somehow, somewhere, the Daleks had gotten wind of their presence on Obsidian IX and had been sending reinforcements.

 _"It's the same message now," Jo Grant had mentioned an hour earlier. "'Locate the Doctor. Destroy everything in your path. The Doctor must be destroyed!'" She'd shaken her head. "It's horrible!"_

 _"Unfortunately, Miss Grant, that's the reality of the situation," Benton sympathized. "There's not a lot we_ can _do but survive."_

 _Grant's expression had been fierce. "You're forgetting one other strategy. We can leave."_

 _"No, we can't," Benton retorted. "Neither the Brigadier nor the Doctor would clear that strategy. The Obsidinites need us right now."_

 _"We're putting them in danger just by being here, Sergeant!" Grant bit back. "You lot have been out on the front lines; I've been in tactical, analyzing the Daleks' attack patterns. Within_ a day, _they changed. Just by us being here, we've destroyed any chance these people have for a victory they spent twenty years fighting and_ dying _for. How many more will die before it becomes clear that the blood of the Obsidinites will be on_ our _hands as well?"_

Benton had spent the next while or so brooding about it. Ms Grant had a valid point; however, he felt his own opinion still stood. There was no way they could pull out now; it would be a strategic disaster and would spell certain victory for the Daleks.

 _"Benton."_

Benton stopped in his tracks, confused. "Who's there?"

 _"Turn around."_

The Sergeant placed a hand on his gun. "Not on your life. I'm not taking orders from anyone except the Brigadier." _Especially not from the disembodied voice of a strange woman._

 _"Suit yourself, mate."_ The lights suddenly went out. Benton unholstered his weapon, spooked as he turned around.

"Benton?! Dear God, man, put your gun down!"

 _The Doctor._ Benton relaxed, though he couldn't see anything. "Doctor? I can't see anything."

"Neither can I."

Benton snorted. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one who's experiencing this."

"Do you know what's going on?" the Doctor asked.

"With all due respect, sir, you've asked exactly the wrong person." Benton turned on his torch, the light shining on ghostly, psychotic-looking stone angels.

"Please tell me I'm hallucinating," Benton whispered.

The Doctor gulped. His eyes were wide with what looked to be—was that terror? What could be so dangerous it could scare the scientific advisor like that?

"You're not," the Doctor said hoarsely.

Benton blinked. Almost immediately, the ghost statues changed position and were now closer. "What are they?" the Sergeant asked, fully aware of the fear in his voice.

"If I had to guess, I'd say those are the things the Brigadier warned me about after you all got back," the Doctor responded.

Benton's eyes widened.

"Weeping Angels," the Doctor continued, fear definitely present in his voice. "One of the deadliest creatures in the universe. If they so much as _touch_ you, you're done for."

"How fast are they?"

"Judging by the fact that they moved when we blinked, I'd say _very."_ The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Run!"

 _You don't need to tell me twice._ Benton turned tail, relying entirely on his torch for sight.

" _This might sound crazy, Doctor," Lethbridge-Stewart had said once they returned. "There was this woman in the caves, who appeared in what she said was a psychic projection."_

" _Fascinating," the Time Lord responded, stroking his chin. "Who was she? What did she look like?"_

" _Young, blonde, and humanoid." The Brigadier snorted. "I have no idea who she was, but she kind of reminded me of you a bit."_

" _Never mind that," Benton interjected, getting antsy. "What about her, Brigadier? You'd mentioned her briefly on the way back, but you never really talked about her."_

" _Right," the Brigadier confirmed. "She gave me a message for you, Doctor."_

 _The Time Lord raised a bushy eyebrow. "A message? What kind of message?"_

" _Not the good kind. She said that we are all in terrible danger, and that we needed to protect you with our lives."_

 _The Doctor's brow furrowed. "From what?"_

" _She didn't say, but it was pretty bad from the sound of it. Something's coming."_

That something was now on their heels.

They reached the end of the hallway, panting. The ghost statues were only halfway across the hallway. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, glancing down briefly to look at the results. "They're only psychic projections," he responded, amazed.

" _Even so, that doesn't mean they won't kill you,"_ the disembodied woman's voice retorted. _"The image of an Angel_ is _an Angel."_

"Are you the woman the Brigadier was telling us about?" the Doctor asked. "Why don't you show yourself, then?"

" _Like the Angels, I am only here in the form of a psychic projection,"_ the woman responded. _"Look to your left."_

Benton and the Doctor turned. A strange mirror suddenly appeared, stalling the Angels. In front of said mirror was a hooded figure in a light-coloured trenchcoat.

"How are you doing that?" the Doctor asked, amazed.

" _The mind has a creative potential unto its own when defending against its demons,"_ the woman explained cryptically. _"These mirrors, for instance, are acting as mental shields against the Angels."_

"I don't understand," Benton muttered. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

The Angels vanished. The torchlight only exposed part of the woman's face, which contorted into a mirthless smile. _"Spoilers."_


	15. Chapter 15

20 JANUARY 2019

SHEFFIELD

The Doctor frowned, laying back on the couch. _That was a weird dream._ She'd been on some unknown military base with one of her younger selves and, for some strange reason, John Benton as well. There were only bits and pieces that she could remember. And where did all those Angels come from?

Another thought crossed her mind. _Was it_ really _a dream?_

She closed her eyes, letting sleep take her once more.

After a few hours of rest, the Doctor again attempted communication with her TARDIS. Like the past several days, there was still no success.

"Come on, girl, why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

The TARDIS remained silent. The Doctor attempted to approach her ship, but instead collided face-first with a high-powered shield. The Time Lord fell, landing on her arse, glaring at her longest companion. "What is _going on_ with you?"

Again, the TARDIS said nothing. No whirring of the gears, no telepathy, not even an external interface. Just defences.

"Are you being hacked?" the Doctor tried again. "Has somebody been messing with your controls?"

Silence.

 _This has gone on far enough._ "Fine," she growled. "Out with it. Why the hell are you shutting me out?" The Time Lord fought back angry tears. "What did I _do_ to you to deserve this?"

Again, silence. The Doctor's face fell as she finally let those angry tears go. She turned her back to the TARDIS, hand covering her mouth as feelings of hurt overwhelmed her.

 _Ever since Staffordshire, the TARDIS has been acting weirdly around me,_ she recalled. _My own ship is rejecting me after a few thousand years, even after being at my side during the Last Great Time War. My own ship!_

She closed her eyes. _A hot shower will probably do me some good._

"You alright, Doc?" Graham had probably walked down to check on her. "It's just past six; you should get some sleep."

"Six," the Doctor echoed, though she wasn't sure if it was out of defeat at this point or if she was just too damn tired to think straight.

Probably both.

"I'm fine," the Doctor lied, even though she knew it was painfully obvious that she wasn't. She shook her head, not willing to meet Graham's eyes. "I need a shower." She pushed herself up the stairs before the older human could say anything, wishing for something to ease the pain.

* * *

20 JANUARY 2019, 7:05

Ryan walked downstairs, anxious for some caffeine. He had hoped to get a quick shower, but someone was hogging the one in the upstairs bathroom. He wasn't sure who. In all likelihood, it was probably the Doctor. Try as she might to hide it, she was looking a lot worse than she had been when the Angels slashed her neck in Staffordshire. Maybe their claws were poisonous?

In any case, Ryan wanted to be more awake before he started speculating on such things.

" _Ryan."_

Ryan looked up, confused. The voice was Scottish—and masculine. "Who's there?"

" _For crying out loud, dude, just turn around."_

Ryan turned, yelping in surprise. A man with white and grey mad scientist-type hair stood in front of the TARDIS, wearing the same clothes that the Doctor had the night they had first met.

" _Why are you calling me madam?" the blonde woman had asked._

 _Awkwardness was mutual between the three that were present in the train car. "Because…you're a woman," Yaz told her._

 _This fact was not apparently obvious, because the woman's hazel eyes had widened in surprise. "Am I?!"_

 _Yaz looked flummoxed. "What?"_

 _The woman ignored her, as if something had suddenly dawned on her. "Oh, I remember now!" She turned away, somewhat flustered. "Sorry. Half an hour ago I was a white-haired Scotsman."_

And a white-haired Scotsman was now standing in Graham's living room.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Doctor?"

" _Not exactly,"_ the Scotsman responded, holding up a halting hand. _"Yes, I look like the Doctor. But not your Doctor, no. Her immediate predecessor, as a matter of fact. This image, I guess, is from not long before this one regenerated into the woman currently raising hell in your upstairs shower."_ He gestured to the TARDIS. _"I am the TARDIS visual interface. I can appear in the image of anyone I choose, on either the inside or the outside of the TARDIS—for the latter, mind you, I do think the range is quite limited. It's annoying, really."_

Ryan folded his arms. "The Doctor told me you're avoiding her. What gives?"

The Scotsman frowned. _"Well, let's just say that a certain group of quantum-locked killer statues are to blame for that little predicament. There is something terribly wrong, and it's putting all of us in danger."_

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "What did they do to her?"

The Scotsman's expression darkened. _"Something far worse than ripping her throat out, I'm afraid."_

* * *

20 JANUARY 2019, 8:07

 _Well, the Scotsman did say I'd be using my mind palace a lot. I might as well put that to the test._ The Doctor closed her eyes, meditating.

 _The Time Lord found herself inside her TARDIS, similar to the last time. Just one thing was different, though._

 _She walked to an area northwest of the TARDIS entrance, noticing a portable chalkboard…and someone familiar nearby._

" _Clara," she whispered._

 _Clara Oswald did not respond. The scene was eerily similar to the Doctor's time inside her own Confession Dial—an experience she hoped never to repeat again unless it was an absolute last resort. The English teacher wrote something on the board._

 ** _Question 1: Why did the Angel let you go?_**

" _No idea," the Time Lord admitted. "I'm just glad it did." She felt her neck, wincing. "I just wish these wounds would hurry up and heal already." The Doctor shook her head. "Maybe it's just as well that I don't know. The less I know, the better, am I right?"_

 _Clara turned, shaking her head. Her brown eyes betrayed her alarm; her face, concern. She then proceeded to write something else._

 ** _Question 2: Are you okay?_**

" _Yeah," the Doctor responded. "Of course I am."_

 _Again, Clara shook her head. The Doctor noticed a tear falling down her late friend's face as she erased the board and wrote again._

 ** _LIAR!_**

 _The sounds of strange footsteps approached and Clara faded, replaced by the chilling silhouette of a stone angel._

* * *

The Time Lord's eyes fluttered open, and she woke up, gasping. _What the hell?_

"Doctor?"

She sat up, seeing Ryan over by the sofa. "You good, mate?"

 _There's no use lying to him._ "Nightmare." That was true—Clara's response had completely unnerved her, along with what she had seen right after. "I'll be ok." That response was dull even for her.

Ryan, from the looks of it, decided not to argue. "All right, fine, suit yourself." He frowned. "Yaz just called. She wants your help on a case today."

"That depends on the case," the Time Lord muttered sleepily, eyes fluttering shut.

"She said something about an image of a Weeping Angel appearing in the eyes of a couple of dead people."

The Doctor's eyes shot open. All indicators of tiredness left her body as she felt a cold chill run down her spine. She rolled onto her side, looking intently at Ryan. "Where was this?"

* * *

20 JANUARY 2019, 11:17

SHEFFIELD HALLAM A&E

The Doctor walked into the emergency building, anxious. Yaz was in the waiting room, along with a dark-skinned young man with 1970s-style round glasses. He looked just as anxious as the Doctor herself.

She made her way over to them, gulping. "Yaz?"

Yaz stood. "Doctor. Great to see you."

The Doctor nodded. "You too, Yaz, but I wish it was under very different circumstances." She gestured to the man next to her. "You must be Oslo Stefansson?"

The man stood, shaking her hand. "Yes, ma'am."

Yaz nodded. "Follow me."

They made their way deep into the ER, reaching the the imaging wing after what felt like ages. Crime scene tape stretched for several metres, even across the men's lavatory for some reason.

 _This is bad. Very bad._

"This is it?" the Doctor asked instead.

"What gave it away?" Oslo asked. It sounded as though he was attempting sarcasm, but it came out tired and hollow.

Officers that were present let Yaz and Oslo through, but one barred access for the Doctor. "I'm sorry, ma'am." Her expression was concerned. "You can't be in here."

Yaz put a hand on the officer's shoulder. "It's okay, Sergeant. This is the Doctor; I've brought her in on the case for some extra help."

The officer nodded, letting the Time Lord through. "Who was she?" she asked.

"Sergeant Takahashi," Yaz explained. "She volunteered last night for the Weeping Angel case."

"Braver than most, that one," Oslo muttered.

Yaz nodded in agreement. The Doctor, however, was more concerned with the imaging machine to her right. "Positron Emission Tomography?" she asked, surprised.

"Yep," Oslo confirmed. "We figured it would be easier to study Max's corpse this way since he still had methamphetamine in his system when he died."

"But the meth wasn't the cause of death, was it?" the Doctor asked, dread in her voice.

"I don't think so," Oslo admitted. "When I was running the PET scan on him, there was a weird pulsing coming from his occipital lobe. I ran it three times, and it showed the same thing."

"That's weird," the Doctor mused.

Yaz folded her arms. "For those of us who don't know a lot about neuroscience, can you please cover this in plain English?"

"The occipital lobe is the area of the brain that controls and regulates visual output," the Doctor explained. "For humans, it's right at the back of their heads." She placed a hand on the back of her own to demonstrate.

Oslo raised an eyebrow. "What did you say you were a doctor of again?"

The Doctor shrugged. "A lot of things." She waved her sonic over the machine, surprised to learn that the scan had picked up an extra test after Max's. "Was any more testing done on this machine?"

"Yeah," Oslo said. "The coroner had me run a test on him while he was still alive, just to make sure the machine wasn't malfunctioning."

Yaz let out a hiss of pain. The Doctor turned, concerned. "You doin' alright, Yaz?"

She shook her head. "It's my eye. I told Allen that I'd get it checked out while I was here. She thinks it's infected."

"Given you got punched in the eye by a Weeping Angel, I wouldn't be surprised if it was," the Doctor said darkly. "See if you can find a nurse to look at it."

Yaz nodded, exiting the room.

Oslo glanced at the Time Lord. "So…not a medical doctor, then?"

"I can be one when needed," she responded. "Did you ever see the results of the coroner's test?"

"No," Oslo admitted. "He was counting down from ten for some reason; I got spooked and made an excuse to run to the toilet."

 _He was counting down from ten. Down to zero, probably. If it was what I_ think _it was, he was a dead man walking for the last ten minutes of his life._ She stiffened. "How did this happen?"

"I don't follow, ma'am."

She sighed. "What made him start counting down?"

"Oh." Oslo frowned. "He looked Max's corpse in the eyes. Said something about a strange image in the retinas. I went over to look and saw a stone angel with its eyes covered." He shuddered. "It was too creepy to look at for more than a couple of seconds."

"It's a miracle that thing had its eyes covered, otherwise you'd be dead, too," the Doctor remarked, her tone dark. _This is one of the times that I wish I was wrong._

" _Am_ I clean, Doctor?"

"Give me a minute and I'll let you know." She scanned him with her sonic, admittedly just as anxious about the results.

 **SCAN NEGATIVE.**

She sighed in relief. "You're not infected."

Oslo placed his head in his hands, letting out an equally relieved sigh. "Thank God." The intern made his way to the PET machine, calling up a few images. "This was the test done on the coroner."

The Doctor walked over, frowning. "Was this before or after he saw the Angel?"

"About five minutes after."

She grimaced. "This neuropathy is…chilling, to say the least. Not only is it quick, it's taking over all of the receptors and reducing neurotransmitter activity, especially in the occipital area."

"Not the dopamine receptors, though," Oslo noted. "On the contrary, they've been enhanced."

"Probably so their victims don't know the Angel is there while it is in the process of taking over," the Doctor remarked, lip curling. "It makes me feel sick just thinking about it."

"Is it a plague?" Oslo asked, voice rising in pitch. "If so, we should quarantine the area!"

"Not a plague per se, but if people are stupid enough to look a Weeping Angel in the eye, and then into the eyes of the dead that looked a Weeping Angel in the eye, it could become a major crisis." She glanced over at Oslo, who scooted backwards frantically, eyes wide with terror.

"It's only a possibility," she said quickly, hoping to reassure the young intern.

Oslo nodded, gulping. "Y-yes, ma'am." He didn't meet her eyes, instead closing his own as he sat back against the wall. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you explain to me the part about looking Weeping Angels in the eye?"

"I can," she responded carefully. _But you might not want to hear it. No, scratch that. You_ should _hear it, regardless of whether you want to or not._ "You ever hear the saying, 'The eyes are windows to the soul?'"

"…No."

"Well, that should be taken literally," she told him. "Any image of a Weeping Angel manifests into the actual thing. It will escape from one's eye the way a video does when it's being projected onscreen, leaving behind just the image."

Oslo's eyes shot open. "That explains a lot."

"Oh?"

"The men's toilets," he clarified. "I'll show you."

The intern stood, and the Doctor followed him into the men's room.

 _Haven't been in one of these in a while,_ she thought. The Time Lord wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, the smell!"

"That's the men's room for ya," Oslo said sardonically. "We seem to be noseblind to it."

 _You're not wrong,_ she wanted to say. But explaining the whole gender-regeneration thing to him was not a priority at the moment, especially since he didn't know she was not human.

"I don't doubt it," she said instead, looking around. Her eyes landed on a figure in front of the mirror.

"Well, well, well," she said coldly. "Conahan's Angel, I presume?"

The Angel did not reply. Nor did she expect it to, given that it was quantum-locked.

"That bastard snuck up behind me not long after I ran in here," Oslo grumbled.

"Where were you standing?"

Oslo walked over to the sink in front of the Angel, pointing to the center. "Right about there."

The Doctor folded her arms. "Guess you got lucky twice, then."

"I'd rather not think about it."

 _I don't blame you in the slightest, mate._ She walked over to the sink to the left of the Angel, looking directly into the mirror. For some reason, she felt a lot better after doing so. More…in control.

"Do you think there's a cure?" Oslo asked.

The Doctor shook her head. "There's not any real way to kill a Weeping Angel other than paradoxes and opening a crack into time. Or even starving it, for that matter, but that takes upwards of centuries to millennia. These creatures are the deadliest predators in the universe; they feed on temporal energy. One touch can displace you into the past, or through space if you're lucky, which is rarely. You live out the rest of your life in the past while the Angels feed on what would have been your future."

"That's…horrifying."

"It's better than being digested by a sarlacc," the Doctor countered.

"And if you look them in the eye?"

"If you're human, you're dead in ten minutes," she said grimly. "These things are parasites, so they operate on a similar level to infectious bacterium. The rate of infection depends on species' physiology, but it almost always ends the same way."

"What if there's a way to develop a vaccine to counter the neurobiological effects?" Oslo asked.

The Doctor smiled wanly, turning towards him. "Oslo Stefansson, if you could do that, then I think half the universe would be scrambling for it."

He shook his head. "As good as that sounds, ma'am, pharmacology isn't an area I wish to specialise in."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. "What do you want to do with your degree, then?"

"The same thing I'm doing now: police stuff." He shrugged. "I was originally thinking about doing my internship with UNIT, but their operations got suspended a few months ago because of Brexit. I don't know when they'll be back up and running. I love impossible things. And syfy-type stuff."

"I actually used to work for UNIT," the Doctor informed him. "Maybe when this is all over I can put in a good word with Kate Stewart for you."

Oslo's eyes lit up. "You can seriously do that?"

"I can't guarantee anything, but I'll do my best."

"Alrighty then." Oslo frowned, gesturing to the Angel. "Are these things alien?"

 _Now that is a good question._ "Hard to say, really," she admitted. "Weeping Angels have been around since the beginning of time itself. Hell if I know where exactly they originated from."

 _It's not like you're going to find out,_ a voice whispered tauntingly. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, confused. It sounded ancient…and strangely like her own. But it wasn't. It was more…distorted. It was the same voice she had heard days ago, not long after she saw the Third Doctor in Yaz's bathroom mirror wearing silk pyjamas.

She turned back towards the restroom mirror, the voice fading into silence. She tilted her head to the side, perplexed. "What is it with these mirrors?" she wondered aloud, running her sonic screwdriver over them. She looked at the results in surprise. "Huh. These are just normal mirrors."

"Well, what were you expecting, a mirror into another dimension where other aspects of your personality reside?" Oslo asked.

The Doctor looked at him, not understanding what he was talking about. She even said as much, to which he replied, "It's a _Teen Titans_ reference."

"Whatever." The Doctor looked closely at the mirror in currently front of her—the one to the right of the Angel—and was surprised to see John Benton in the mirror, the way he looked when her third incarnation had known him.

"Benton?" she whispered, shocked.

The Sergeant jumped, evidently shocked as well. _"You're that woman from the other night! The one who brought those things!"_

She raised an eyebrow. "Mate, what the hell are you talking about? What even _is_ this?"

" _The Doctor was looking for a feedback signal on that psychic projection you sent out,"_ he told her. _"Looks like we got the right frequency."_

"And what? This is a psychic projection?"

" _I guess,"_ Benton said. _"It's hard to understand anything that man says sometimes."_

 _So I've been told._ "Where are you speaking from?"

" _Obsidian Nine, 2257. You?"_

"Men's toilets, Earth, 2019," the Doctor responded.

Benton's brow furrowed. _"What are you doing in a men's lavatory?"_

"Long story. Now, what things do you think I brought?"

" _Weeping Angels. Psychic projections that can kill."_

The Doctor's blood ran cold. "Why do you think _I_ brought those monsters?"

" _You appeared alongside them. It's the only logical explanation."_

"Well, your logic is wrong, Sergeant," she retorted.

"Ma'am?" Shoot, she'd forgotten Oslo was still in the lavatory. "Who are you talking to?"

"Someone in the mirror," she said.

"You're nuts," the intern responded. He walked over, gasping in surprise. "I take that back."

" _Who's he?"_ Benton asked.

The Doctor gestured to Oslo. "That's Oslo. He's a police intern."

"Hi," Oslo said, waving. "This is weird."

"Tell me about it," Benton responded. "Who are you, really?"

 _Not going there._ "I can't tell you that."

" _So you've said. But why not? What's with the secrecy?"_

The Doctor sighed. "Because I'm from the future, and names have power."

" _I'm fighting against_ Daleks. _There's a chance that I might not_ have _a future. I need to know, ma'am."_

"Daleks, wonderful," the Doctor groaned. "Even more of a reason for me not to tell you my identity."

" _In any case, you've said the Doctor is in danger from those Angels. We need to know how to stop them."_

 _Over there too? I don't remember this._ "Unless you carry a massive thing of mirrors or find a way to keep them quantum-locked permanently, you can't. If you want to survive, don't blink. Don't look away. Don't turn your back. And, most importantly, do not look them in the eye under any circumstances."

Benton's image flickered. The Doctor took out her sonic screwdriver, trying to get him back.

"What's happening?" Oslo asked.

"Something's interfering with the signal on his end," she muttered. "If I can just find a way to boost the power—"

The image fizzled out, leaving the two of them to their own reflections. The Doctor cursed vehemently, both scared and confused.

"Doctor?" Oslo asked. "Mind telling me what just happened?"

"From what I can tell, an army Sergeant from the 1970s made contact with us from another planet in the 23rd century," she summarised.

"How did you know he was from the '70s?"

"The uniform. That, and I knew him from back in the day. I worked alongside him at UNIT."

"In the '70s?!" He looked her up and down. "You don't look any more than thirty, thirty-five at most!"

 _Okay. Reveal time._ "Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am the Doctor. I am an alien from another world. And I am, technically speaking, just over four-and-a-half billion years old."

Oslo's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

She grinned. "Hello."

"But…you look—"

"Human?" the Doctor finished.

Oslo nodded.

She shrugged. "From my perspective, _you_ look Gallifreyan. But try not to go around advertising it; I'd rather not be dissected when my services can be put to use saving the universe."

"Got it." Oslo shrugged. "But, seriously, why couldn't you just tell Sergeant what's-his-face who you were?"

"Because, like I said, he is working alongside my past self in UNIT's early days, back when it was known as the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce," she said. "If I let on too much about the future, or even a possible one in the midst of a bunch of nonlinear timelines, then it could change the future of this timeline or even a few others." She folded her arms. "I really hope you understood all of that, because I'm not gonna say it a second time."

"Loud and clear, ma'am."

"And, Oslo."

The intern turned back towards her. The Doctor pocketed her sonic. "Mention what happened in the past several minutes to _no one._ Except Yaz, but only her, or anyone else on my crew. Understood?"

"Understood."


	16. Chapter 16

20 JANUARY 2019, 18:46

SHEFFIELD

GRAHAM'S HOUSE

"How was the case?" Ryan asked.

"Gross and bizarre," Yaz responded, shutting the door behind her. "The Doctor's still over there with the intern, trying to figure things out."

"Your eye?"

Yaz held up a pharmacy bag. "Just a minor bacterial infection. I'm on antibiotics for the next week-and-a-half." She frowned, placing it on the table. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"The Doctor," Ryan responded. "Have you noticed anything weird going on with her? Like if she's been sicker than she's been letting on?"

"She was hallucinating a little bit, but that's probably a psychological effect of what the Angel did to her," Yaz admitted.

"She randomly said 'seven' when looking at the cost for lunch the other day," Ryan said. "The total had no sevens in it. She denied it, but I wasn't the only one who heard it."

"And she said 'eight' in the car on the way to the ladies' night," Yaz added. "Also tried to deny it. It's like she's counting down from something. But the countdown is hidden in subtle ways from us."

"From ten, maybe?" Ryan asked. "You remember how quickly she responded to you holding up all of your fingers, right?"

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed. "And, when she switched over to German the day after, she told me that she had thought one thing in English but what if we all misinterpreted that remark as German? Not nein as in 'no', but nine as in the number."

 _Shoot. No wonder we didn't see it._ "Damn, she's clever."

"One number a day," Yaz pointed out. "Ten, nine, eight, seven. Assuming she'd said 'six' at a random point today, it would be 'five' tomorrow."

It was then that Ryan recalled the conversation he'd had with the Doctor before their order number had come up for lunch.

" _Ten, nine, eight, seven," she had counted. "One number a day. Tomorrow it's probably gonna be six."_

" _A countdown?" Ryan had asked, though he knew the answer was obviously "yes." "Why though?"_

 _The alien's lip curled. "I have a theory, but I really don't like it."_

" _That bad?"_

" _Worse."_

 _Ryan frowned. "What if you're right?"_

 _There was a dangerous glint in her right eye. "Then things are really going to get ugly."_

 _Ryan folded his arms. "So what is it that you're thinking?"_

The Doctor had never provided him an answer, so it was very possible that she knew something was up but was trying to stay strong for her companions.

"She knew," Ryan told Yaz.

"What?"

"She knew about the possibility of a countdown going on. She told me so at lunch that day." He sighed. "From the sound of it, she also had a feeling that something was going to happen when she reached zero."

"Nothing good, I take it?"

"Pretty much," Ryan admitted.

Yaz put her head in her hands. "Dammit, Doctor," she whispered. She looked directly at Ryan. "We really need to keep an eye on her."

* * *

21 JANUARY 2019, 15:52

SHEFFIELD

GRAHAM'S HOUSE

"Anyone want tea?" the Doctor asked.

Ryan shook his head. "I'll take a cuppa," Yaz told her.

The Time Lord nodded, satisfied. "Brilliant."

She went into the kitchen, grabbing three mugs out of the cabinet. "I thought Graham would be here," she remarked.

"He had work," Ryan said.

The Doctor frowned. "I thought he was retired."

"One of his bus driver friends asked him to cover his shifts while he's on holiday," Ryan explained.

"Ah." She put the kettle on the stove, whistling part of the melody line from Beethoven's _Ode to Joy._

"Is your neck any better?" Ryan asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," the Doctor responded. "It's just about healed."

"I can't say the same about my eye, though," Yaz complained.

"It's just a minor infection," Ryan retorted. "You'll be fine."

Yaz groaned. "This is so annoying."

"How do you think I've been feeling the past few days?" the Doctor countered, though not unsympathetically. "Still. It could be worse."

"Please don't wish that on me, Doctor."

"Or me," Ryan added.

The Doctor walked out of the kitchen, laughing sardonically. "Ok, five."

Both their eyes widened. "Doctor?" Ryan asked, concerned.

The smile faded from the Time Lord's face. "What?"

"What did you say just now?" he asked.

"Fine," she responded, not thinking anything of it.

"No," Yaz retorted. "You said five. F-I-V-E. You heard it too, didn't you, Ryan?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I did." He met the Doctor's gaze, screaming a second later. He panted. "Please tell me I did not just see what I think I saw."

Yaz walked up, looking the Doctor in the eye, just for a second, also recoiling. "I think I saw it too, Ryan."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "What?" The tone in her voice became darker. "This isn't funny, fam."

"Damn right it isn't," Yaz said seriously. "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"

The Doctor took a step backwards. "What are you getting at? I'm fine! _Fine!_ "

Both of the younger members of Team TARDIS looked at each other before redirecting their gaze to the Doctor. Their response was one in unison: "Bullshit."

The Doctor groaned. "All right. I'll go take a look."

She walked up the stairs, shutting herself inside the bathroom. In the mirror, her reflection was there.

"But what did they see?" she mused. "What was it that scared the crap out of both of them?" She let out a soft "hmmm". "What is it that _I'm_ not seeing?"

The Doctor looked at her own reflection. _So far nothi—_

 _Wait. Scratch that._ The Doctor froze, seeing a strange image in her eye. She blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the lighting, but, no, it was still there.

"What the hell?" she whispered, leaning closer into the mirror. The image in her eye became clearer.

The image of a Weeping Angel.

The scream was out before the Doctor could stop herself from panicking.

* * *

21 JANUARY 2019, 15:57

Yaz removed the kettle from the stove, pouring its contents into the mugs. She handed one of them to Ryan, sitting down at the table. "That was pretty bizarre, wasn't it?" she remarked.

"Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it," Ryan muttered shakily.

"Still spooked?"

"Yeah." He sighed, shaking his head. "The Doctor's been gone for a few minutes now. Do you think she's found it yet?"

"Not likely," Yaz guessed.

Ryan folded his arms. "What was a Weeping Angel doing in her eye, anyway?"

"I don't know," Yaz said darkly. "Two cases I was investigating this week had the same detail. Now it's three people, all with that image in their eyes. And two of them _dead?_ That can't be a coincidence."

"Do you think it's something to worry about?" Ryan asked.

Yaz scoffed. "Come on, Ryan. It's just a picture. What harm can a picture do?"

"Dorian Gray," he offered.

"That's just a story, though."

He shrugged. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Yaz shook her head. The sound of footsteps momentarily distracted the young Constable. Her head perked up, expecting the Doctor, but instead it was Graham.

"I'm home!" he announced.

"I can see that," Ryan responded, walking over to hug him. His step-grandfather returned the embrace, the two letting go after a brief couple of seconds. "Hello, Yaz," Graham acknowledged.

"Hi," she responded.

"How were the routes?" Ryan asked.

Graham shrugged. "Busy as usual. Traffic wasn't as—"

A bone-chilling scream caused Yaz to jump in her chair. One look at the others told her that they had been spooked as well.

"What the hell was that?" Graham asked.

Yaz face-palmed. "Sounds like she found it."

"Sounds like who found what?"

"The Doctor," Ryan explained. "There was something in her eye."

Graham raised an eyebrow. "That's nothing to scream her head off about."

The sound of a figure walking down the stairs silenced the three of them. They turned, seeing the Doctor, hair skewed all over the place, her normally bubbly demeanor now haunted. Her face was as white as a ghost.

"Doc?" Graham asked cautiously. "You okay?"

The Doctor didn't respond, instead waving her sonic screwdriver over the three of them. She glanced down at it each time, sighing with relief at the end. "Thank goodness. You're not infected."

"Infected?" Ryan asked sharply. "What?" He walked towards her, but the Doctor recoiled, closing her eyes. Yaz noticed it took some effort for her friend to do so. "Don't go anywhere near me," she warned, voice wavering slightly.

"Doctor?" Yaz asked. "What's wrong? Please, tell us!"

She sighed. "I made a terrible mistake. I've been infected."

" _Infected?!_ By what? Is it contagious?"

"Not contagious," the Doctor whispered. "Please. I need some space to think." With her eyes still closed, she walked inside the TARDIS, the door locking behind her.

The three humans looked at each other, alarmed. They walked towards the TARDIS, knocking on the door.

 _No response._

"Okay," Graham said slowly. "Now what?"

"I want a second opinion," Yaz said sharply.

"She said she doesn't want to go to A&E, remember?" Ryan pointed out.

"I _know_ we can't take her there," Yaz retorted. "I need to talk to my boss."

"Why your boss?" Graham asked.

"This could be related to a string of weird cases I've been investigating," Yaz responded.

"And what if it isn't? What if it's a plague or something?"

"The Doctor clearly seemed to know what it was," Ryan added.

"Yeah, and she's not giving us crap."

"Either way," Yaz interrupted them stiffly, "I need to know."

"Do you want a lift?" Graham asked.

"I'm fine with taking the four-fifteen over," Yaz declined. "I just need some air, that's all."

 _And some space from the two of you overthinking the situation._

"Call if you find anything."

Yaz nodded, grabbing her uniform. The walk to the bus stop was uncomfortably quiet as the Constable's anxiety increased. Her thoughts raced as she waited for the bus to take her to the precinct.

 _Max counted down from ten. One number per minute. By the end of the day, he was dead._

 _The coroner also counted down from ten, at the same rate. Ten minutes later, he was dead._

 _What's going to happen to the Doctor?_

She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. _Stop it. She's going to be fine. She has to be._

 _She HAS to be._

The bus pulled up to the stop. Yaz activated the bus pass on her phone, entering the vehicle as quickly as she could. Once inside, she pulled up Spotify, hoping to take her mind off of the situation for the time being.

Yaz smiled slightly, listening to Aretha Franklin. After one song, she took out her earbuds, knowing that it wouldn't be long before her stop was called. Her smile faded.

"You good, love?"

Yaz looked down, seeing an elderly woman on a seat near where she was standing. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm just worried about a friend, that's all."

Yaz's stop was called, saving her from further conversation. She bolted into the precinct building, almost colliding with her boss.

"Yaz! God, you're here early," he remarked, startled. "You know you can't just run in here like a bat out of hell—"

"I need to talk to you, sir. It's urgent."


	17. Chapter 17

21 JANUARY 2019, 16:34

HALLAMSHIRE POLICE PRECINCT

The two officers walked over to Sunder's office. The Sergeant shut the door behind him, looking Yaz square in the eye. "All right, Yaz. Spill."

"It's the Doctor," she said hurriedly. "Something's wrong. Really wrong. I'm worried it might be related to what happened to Max Gentry and the coroner."

Sunder sat down at his desk, gesturing for Yaz to take the chair in front of it. She sat down, tense. The Sergeant nodded. "Explain."

Yaz took a deep breath, telling her boss what she knew about the countdown and the image of a Weeping Angel in the Doctor's eye. "Three cases, all with the same symptoms," she finished. "There's no way this is just a coincidence."

"It doesn't sound like it," the Sergeant agreed. He pressed a button on the PA system. "Stefansson. My office. _Now._ "

"Thanks for looking into this, Serge," Yaz said gratefully.

Sunder nodded. The door burst open, revealing a terrified-looking Oslo Stefansson, evidently having run the length to the office. Sunder gestured for the intern to take the chair next to Yaz, which he did.

Oslo gulped. "Am I being fired?"

"Far from it," Sunder told him. "Constable Khan, tell Stefansson everything you just told me."

Yaz nodded, telling the intern exactly what she had told her boss. The look of utter terror on the intern's face was not what she had expected, though.

"Yeah, these things have got to be linked," Oslo said wanly. "What number did she count down to, and when did it happen?"

"Five," Yaz said. "It was almost like it was a reflexive slip. She didn't notice it until one of my mates and I pointed it out to her."

"Yeah, but when did it happen?"

"Shortly before four this afternoon."

"What was the rate of the countdown?"

"One number per day," Yaz informed him. She frowned. "Is that important?"

"Given what's been going on lately, it's very important," Oslo said grimly. "Was she counting down from ten?"

"Yes," Yaz admitted. "Truth be told, I didn't make the connection that something was up until quite a bit later."

"And where is the Doctor? Is she alive?"

"Yeah. She locked herself inside a room after she noticed the Angel in her eye. She hasn't been telling us a damn thing about what's been going on!"

"I'll need help examining her, Yaz," Oslo pointed out. "I'm not in med school, and I'm not a doctor." He paused, eyes widening in realisation. "Hold on a sec. I've got a call to make."

* * *

21 JANUARY 2019, 16:56

SHEFFIELD HALLAM A&E

 _Hiromi. Maria. Where are you?_

Tanaka Kenji held his head in his hands, stress threatening to overwhelm him. The only phone call he had received today had been from Stefansson, the police intern who had been at the hospital when the coroner died under bizarre circumstances. The student had asked him to examine a similar case to Max Gentry and John Conahan, on a patient that had been experiencing similar symptoms over a much longer period of time.

The glaring difference? This patient was still alive.

Kenji told Stefansson that he'd look into it as soon as his shift ended for the day. That, unfortunately, wouldn't be for another five hours.

And, his sister and her girlfriend were still missing.

He'd been in touch with both families. His parents were, naturally, worried, as was Maria's family. The police had apparently been looking into it, but so far they hadn't found anything. The women had simply…disappeared.

Two hours passed before Kenji had some peace from the emergency ward. During that time, he'd examined four patients: two officers from a car accident that had occurred after hitting a deer a few days earlier, one pregnant woman close to going into labour, and a teenager who somehow managed to get his foot stuck in a toilet.

He was supposed to have his dinner break right now. However, he wasn't hungry.

Then his mobile rang.

Kenji frowned, noticing the Caller ID had a Japanese country code. He picked up, switching over to Japanese. "Hello?"

" _N_ _ī_ _san?"_

His eyes widened, recognizing the voice. "Hiromi-chan? Is that you?"

" _Yes. It's me."_

He sat up. "Where are you?"

" _T_ _ō_ _kyo. I have no idea how I got here; I was in Sheffield one second, and the next I was suddenly in T_ _ō_ _kyo."_

"Why didn't you come home?"

" _I don't have either of my passports with me. I can't fly home."_

"Is Maria-san okay? Do you know where she is?"

Hiromi sobbed into the telephone. Kenji grimaced, realizing that either she had no idea or something terrible had happened. "I'm sorry."

" _I ended up here alone,"_ Hiromi whispered in English, after taking a couple of minutes to get the tears out of her system. " _I've tried calling her, multiple times, but there's no response. The operator keeps saying the number's been disconnected."_

Kenji's eyes widened. "She wasn't with you?" he breathed, switching momentarily back to English. His voice started to increase in volume and in worry. "Are you okay?"

" _Yes,"_ his sister responded. _"I don't understand!"_

"Neither do I," Kenji admitted. He switched back to Japanese. "I'll find a way to get you home, imōto. We've all been worried sick about you."

" _I will."_

The call ended. Tears started to fall down his face. _Hiromi's okay. She's okay._

 _But where the hell is Maria?_

Kenji dialled his parents, switching back again to Japanese, telling them the good news about Hiromi. Both had been relieved but were still worried about Maria. After the call eventually ended, Kenji couldn't help but think this was some sort of double-edged sword. Not just for him, but for Hiromi. Even if he could somehow move Hiromi from Japan, how could he find Maria as well?

 _It's simple. I can't do either of those things. The first one would be one serious legal snafu that could take months. It's less of a problem here because Hiromi and I have dual citizenship for the UK and Japan, but she doesn't have her passports. She can't leave the country._

Kenji groaned. "There you go again, Kenji, stating the obvious," he muttered in Japanese. He checked his watch, noting that his shift was up in ten minutes.

And then he had to look in on this patient that Stefansson had been so secretive about. The intern didn't even tell him the person's name. He had simply given him an address.

Kenji sighed, switching back to English. "I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

21 JANUARY 2019, 22:49

SHEFFIELD

Kenji parked his car in the driveway, surprised to see Stefansson waiting for him. He exited the vehicle, frowning. "Dude. Given how secretive you were, I thought this was some sort of prank."

Stefansson shook his head. "I'm afraid not, mate. This was where PC Khan told us to meet."

"Maybe she's inside?"

"Possibly." The two walked up the steps, cautious. Kenji rang the doorbell. A few seconds later the door opened, revealing the Constable.

"I take it we're expected?" Kenji asked.

"Definitely," Khan responded. "Inside. Quickly."

The door slammed shut behind them. Stefansson gulped. "Uh…PC Khan? Whose house is this?"

"Mine," a voice said from the kitchen. Kenji turned, seeing a middle-aged man near the refrigerator.

Khan faced them, her expression serious. "Do you think you can help her?"

"That depends entirely on what we're dealing with," Kenji responded. "Stefansson here hasn't told me much."

"And you are?" the man asked.

Kenji held out his hand. "Kenji Tanaka, sir. I'm in med school. Pleased to meet you."

The man walked over, taking it. The handshake was firm. "Graham O'Brien."

Kenji nodded. "Where's the patient?"

Khan gestured for them to follow her. "This way."

They entered the common area, pausing in front of a blue police box. Stefannson raised an eyebrow. "She's in there?"

"Yep," another voice responded. Another man walked into the room, dark-skinned like Stefansson, but looked about two to three years younger.

"How's she doing, Ryan?" Khan asked.

The man, Ryan, shrugged. "No idea. She keeps telling me to go away."

O'Brien folded his arms. "Well, tell 'er to cut it out and let us in."

"All of us?" Stefansson asked, scoffing. "Don't be daft; we can't all fit in there!"

"It doesn't look like there's room for more than one," Kenji added.

"You'll be eating your words in a minute," O'Brien scolded them. "Come on." He attempted to open the door, exasperated. "Did she seriously lock herself in there?"

"Yep," Ryan responded.

"Great." O'Brien pounded on the door. "Oi! We brought help! Can we come in?"

The lock clicked. Khan, O'Brien, and Ryan walked inside. Kenji and Stefansson exchanged a sceptical glance before following them.

Once inside, Kenji got one of the biggest shocks of his life.

Where the simple inside of a police box should have been was a room larger than the common area. One look Stefansson's way told the medical student that the intern had the same reaction.

"Whoa," the intern breathed.

"It's _huge!_ " Kenji blurted, abruptly switching to Japanese. Stefansson looked at him quizzically.

"Yes," a woman's voice responded in perfect Japanese. Kenji looked down, seeing a blonde woman sitting on a set of hexagonal steps, eyes closed. "You speak Japanese?" he asked in said tongue, incredulous.

"Yes, I speak Japanese," she responded. "I speak a lot of things."

"Doctor, we really can't understand you right now," Khan responded.

"Doctor?" Kenji asked, using the medical term.

"I can be," the woman responded, switching back to English. "Different languages have different translations for my name. Healer. Warrior. Predator, to the Daleks."

"Your name is 'Doctor?'" Kenji asked, switching back to English.

"The Doctor, yes," she confirmed.

"Do you have an actual name, though?"

The Doctor stood, straightening, without opening her eyes. "The name I chose is 'the Doctor.'"

Kenji's mouth opened, but Stefansson placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's the only answer we're gonna get, mate."

Kenji nodded, mouth closing.

"Doctor, either open your eyes or sit down," Khan warned. "I don't want you falling off the stairs or something."

The Doctor did neither of those things, walking towards them, though somewhat cautiously. "Really, Yaz, I'll be fine." She stopped in front of the console, pointing at it, switching to Japanese. "Now, who are you?"

Ryan facepalmed. Kenji looked directly at her. "Tanaka Kenji. Turn about forty-five degrees to your left; what you're pointing to right now is that console unit."

"Right. Sorry." She turned, now facing directly towards him.

Kenji snuck a glance Stefansson's way. "I'm surprised she didn't ask _you_ that question," he remarked, switching back to English.

"What question?"

 _Right._ Kenji mentally slapped himself. _The Doctor and I appear to be the only ones here who speak Japanese._ "Who you were."

"Oh." Stefansson shrugged. "We met earlier today. She came with PC Khan to the A&E."

"Gotcha." He faced the Doctor. "I'm here to examine you."

The woman recoiled. "No."

Kenji sighed. "Look, Doctor, I can't force you to do anything. But out of three cases with similar symptoms, you are the only one still alive. We need to know if the cases are linked."

The Doctor frowned. "I know of one case; what was the other one?"

"Max Gentry," Khan explained. "Remember when I was telling you about the meth bust?"

"Oh yeah. How is it related, though?" She sighed, turning her face away from the medical student. "Never mind. That's something for later. What is it you want me to do?"

"Open your eyes, for starters," Kenji remarked. The Doctor stiffened. He frowned. _That's just weird._ "Are you blind, Doctor-san?"

"No."

"Any eye infections recently?"

"That depends on what you mean by the word _'infection'_ ," the woman responded stiffly. "Whatever you do, do not look that thing directly in the eye."

 _This just got weirder._ "Okay…"

The Doctor opened her eyes, finally facing him. Her hazel-green eyes possessed fear. Her right eye possessed something else as well.

 _Whatever you do, do not look that thing directly in the eye._

Kenji glanced at the anomaly, alarmed to find that it was the image of a stone angel. One that was not at all pleased to be examined.

The medical student dropped his instrument, scooting backwards so fast he tripped and landed flat on his ass. "Wha-How the hell are you still alive, woman?!"

"What do you mean?" O'Brien asked sharply.

"There's a superstition that the eye retains the image of the last thing it sees," Stefansson explained. "And that only is true when that person's biochemistry is massively corrupted."

"That's only with the dead, though," the Doctor remarked.

Kenji frowned. "So how is it that you're still alive?"

"It might be taking a bit longer," Stefansson suggested. "Kenji, can I have a word with you for a sec?"

The medical student nodded. They moved to the other side of the room, making sure to whisper so as not to agitate the Doctor or worry the others.

"It's the same as the others, all right," Stefansson confirmed.

"How long did it take with them?" Kenji asked.

"Ten minutes. But it looks like with her, it's taking ten days."

The medical student frowned. "Explain."

"With this infection, whatever it is, it seems to be transmitted ocularly through that kind of image. The victims count down from ten, one number a minute. With her, it's been one number per day."

"And once they hit zero?"

Stefansson sighed. "They die."

 _Crap._ Kenji placed his head in his hands. "This isn't something I've covered in med school."

"Same goes for my neuroscience classes," Stefansson admitted. "So. What do we do?"

"See if there's a pattern. What do we know about the other two cases?"

"Both were male. One was in his late twenties, the other in his fifties."

"And Doctor-san?"

Stefansson shrugged. "She's a woman."

Kenji gave him a deadpanned look. "No shit!"

Evidently that last part had been louder than intended, because they now had four pairs of eyes staring at them. Kenji waved it off. "Sorry. Keep doing whatever it was you were doing."

"Nope. I want answers," the Doctor said sternly, walking over to them. She tripped, face-planting on the floor. Kenji ran over to her. "Are you all right?"

"I didn't break anything if that's what you're implying," she snapped, getting up on her own. "Damned Angel." The Doctor opened a drawer, taking out a strange circular device and placing it on her temple. Within seconds, the stone angel faded from her eye.

"It's gone," Kenji breathed, surprised.

"Only temporarily," the Doctor responded. She exhaled deeply. "That feels a lot better."

"What is that device?" Stefansson asked, evidently curious.

"Neural balancer," the Doctor responded.

"Neural what?"

Kenji shrugged. "Dude, _you're_ the neuroscience guy."

Stefansson threw up his hands in defence. "Yeah, but this is a little bit out of my league." He glanced at the Doctor. "So, what exactly does it do? Is it some sort of device used to regulate neurotransmitter activity?"

"Close," the Doctor responded. "Neural balancers help protect the brain against psychic interference. The telepathic circuitry here malfunctions every now and then, so I stocked up on these to protect anyone on board."

"Psychic interference?" Kenji echoed, sceptical. "I don't suppose that means someone would be trying to hack your brain, does it?"

The Doctor's expression brightened. From the medical student's perspective, it was almost likened to one of his professors whenever they heard something creative or interesting from one of the students.

"Tanaka Kenji, you are a genius!" she beamed.

"You've never thought of it like that before?" Khan asked, surprised.

"No, not really," the Doctor admitted.

O'Brien folded his arms. "I don't suppose you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

The Doctor whirled around, nearly colliding with the console unit. "Remember what we were up against on Ranskoor Av Kolos?"

"I'd rather not think about it," O'Brien muttered. Kenji glanced at Stefansson. _Ranskoor Av what now?_ he mouthed. Stefansson shrugged, also confused.

The Doctor frowned. "I wasn't referring to Tim Shaw, Graham." She pulled some of her hair back behind her ears, exposing a silver-chained ear cuff on the left one. "I was referring to what the planet had done to Paltraki."

"Still, I'd rather not think about it."

" _Anyway,_ the frequency was strong enough to induce amnesia and schizoid-type symptoms into almost anyone who was unprotected. The Angel might be trying to do something similar. Except, rather than hacking, it's killing."

"What angel?" Kenji asked, flummoxed.

Ryan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want the short version?"

"That would be nice, yeah."

Ryan gestured to the Doctor. "She's an alien. This is her spaceship. Weeping Angels are predators, and don't ask me how one got into her eye but apparently that is _really_ bad."

 _What?!_ Kenji must have had the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, because Ryan's next words were, "You'll understand eventually."

Kenji pointed to the Doctor, switching over to Japanese. "Wait…so you're not human?"

The Doctor shrugged. "That's the gist of it," she responded in the same language.

He switched back to English. "But you speak Japanese! And English!"

"And a lot of other languages."

"Including dog, apparently," O'Brien remarked.

 _This is a bit much to take in all at once._ Kenji walked over to the steps, sitting down, head in his hands. "I need a drink."

"There's water in the kitchen," the Doctor offered helpfully.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Coffee. Tea. Alcoholic beverages from about five different galaxies." She pulled a face. "I'd stay away from the Sontaran vodka if I were you. That stuff's ninety-seven percent alcohol."

"Then why do you even _have_ it?!" Ryan asked.

"It's from a friend of mine named Strax," the Doctor explained. "I've never opened it."

Kenji looked up at her. "I don't suppose you have sake?"

"I might. Let me check." She disappeared through a corridor, leaving the two strangers confused. Kenji gestured to Ryan, O'Brien, and Khan. "Are you lot aliens, too?"

Ryan laughed. Khan shook her head. "Nah, mate. We're human."

"And from Earth," O'Brien added somewhat helpfully.

"That's reassuring," Kenji muttered. "Are you all used to this?"

"Pretty much," O'Brien responded. "We travel with the Doc."

Stefansson raised a hand. "Quick question: Does your boss know about this?"

Khan folded her arms. "He knows about the TARDIS, and he knows the Doctor is an alien, but other than that he's in the dark."

"Cool."

"And you're _not_ telling him."

Stefansson gave her a thumbs-up. "That is fine by me."

"Is she going to be okay?" Ryan asked.

Kenji and Stefansson exchanged a nervous glance before looking back at the Doctor's…crew, for the lack of a better term. "We don't know," Kenji said finally.

"The last two people who ended up with that thing in their eye ended up dead," Stefansson added. "It's possible that the Doctor will be no different."

Fear was very much palpable in the room. Ryan gulped. "But, we're safe, right? I mean, the Doctor said it wasn't contagious."

"As far as I know, we are," Stefansson responded. "But there's no cure that I know of for something like this."

"I don't know of anything, either," Kenji admitted sadly. "Right now, our priority should be to make sure this doesn't turn into some sort of epidemic."

 _Hiromi's going to have to wait._ Somehow, he was okay with that. After all, his sister would scold him if he put her needs above the needs of strangers under his care.

" _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, N_ _ī_ _san,"_ Hiromi told him once. Even though she had been quoting _Star Trek_ at the time, that advice still held true to him even now.

"What do we tell the Doc?" O'Brien asked quietly.

The room was silent for a moment. "I haven't the faintest idea," Khan responded, turning towards Ryan. He shook his head. "I've got nothing."

Stefansson sighed. "Wonderful."

The Doctor eventually returned a few minutes later, empty-handed. "No luck with the sake, I'm afraid."

Kenji nodded. "That's okay. I think I'll stay sober for the time being."

The Doctor gave him a thumbs-up, fiddling around with the console unit. Everyone was silent, and the tension in the air was so strong it could probably cut like a knife. For Kenji, he didn't know what to say to his patient. He wasn't stupid; he could tell the Doctor knew what was happening and likely what was going to happen. He knew the alien was wearing a masque on her face, hiding what was very likely her fear from the rest of them.

Stefansson raised his hand. "May I ask a question?"

The Doctor looked up, facing him directly. Her expression remained guarded. "Depends on the question."

The intern gestured to the room. "How does all of this fit inside a police box?"

The blonde woman smiled. "The inner dimensions transcend the outer dimensions."

Stefansson reacted, flummoxed. "In English?"

"It's bigger on the inside," Khan clarified.

Kenji shook his head. "That's just not possible."

The Doctor shrugged. "Go on, then. See for yourselves."

Kenji and Stefansson exchanged apprehensive glances before exiting the…ship. The medical student was still having trouble wrapping his head around what was going on, mainly the whole "aliens are real" part. The Doctor definitely _looked_ human enough.

"This has got to be like something out of _Shingeki no Kyojin,_ " Kenji muttered.

"Shingeki no What?" Stefansson asked. "Dude, no offence, but I don't speak Japanese."

"The rough translation is _Attack on Titan._ "

"Oh." Stefansson raised an eyebrow, deep in thought. "I've seen the anime."

"Subbed or dubbed?"

"Dubbed."

Kenji shrugged. "Subbed's better in my opinion."

"If you say so." Stefansson's eyes widened. "Wait, do you think she's like the Titan shifters? In that they look human but are more than meet the eye?"

"The shifters weren't aliens," Kenji reminded him. "I was referring to the more psychic aspects of it all."

"So this is science fiction being realized through science fact." Stefansson folded his arms, leaning against the exterior. "This is proper awesome." He felt the exterior with a hand, eyebrows narrowing in confusion. "And wood."

Kenji walked around, seeing that it really was an old police box on the outside. He frowned. "Stefansson-san?"

"Dude, call me Oslo."

"Okay. Oslo." He frowned. "Do you see any cloaking devices at all?"

"How would I know where to look?"

"You watch _Star Trek!_ "

"Yeah, but if there was an invisible cloaking device covering the rest of the ship, I think we would have smacked into it by now."

After a few rounds of circling around the police box, it became apparent that there was no cloaking device outside. Kenji shrugged. "Want to head back in?"

"Yeah," Oslo responded. "I want to make sure I'm not going crazy."

 _That makes two of us._ They walked back inside, and sure enough, the room that shouldn't physically be there was physically there.

"You two sure took your time," the Doctor remarked.

The two humans exchanged a glance with each other before facing the alien. "We have questions," Oslo responded.

The Doctor placed her hands on her hips. "What would you like to know?"

The strangers immediately rushed into their enquiries.

"Why is your ship made out of wood?"

"Why doesn't it catch fire since it's wood? Theoretically speaking, it should catch fire!"

"Why are you here? Are you here to conquer the Earth?"

"Are you a creature in a human suit?"

"Is probing a thing?"

The Doctor doubled over at that last question, howling in laughter. O'Brien folded his arms. "And she says _we_ ask too many questions sometimes."

Khan, however, gave them a fulminating look. "Probing? _Really?_ "

Oslo rolled his eyes at Kenji (who had asked _that_ particular question). He shrugged. "I'm in medical school, okay? I thought it was perfectly all right to ask if aliens shoved things up people's—"

"We get the point, mate," Khan interrupted hastily. The look in her eyes said two words: _Cool it._

The Doctor straightened, hair all over the place. "Honestly, I was _not_ expecting that last question. Now, to answer some of them: No, I'm not a creature in a human suit. This is my actual appearance. There are actually aliens who do that, though: the Slitheen, for example."

Ryan frowned. "When you say human suits…"

"Skinned human corpses."

All of the humans present in the room recoiled. "Sorry I asked," Ryan responded.

"Don't be sorry, Ryan," the Doctor scolded. "The only question to be apologising for is the one that isn't asked."

"But seriously," Kenji asked, "are you here to take over the Earth?"

The Doctor shook her head. "Nah. I just like it here. Conquest isn't for me."

"And your ship?"

"It's got shielding."

 _So it doesn't catch fire,_ Kenji guessed. He nodded, satisfied. Oslo leaned over, whispering in the medical student's ear: "Notice how she didn't answer the probing question."

"I heard that," the alien responded, making them jump. To be fair, she _was_ standing right in front of them. Kenji looked down, despondent. "Sorry, Doctor-san."

"Don't be sorry!" she scolded, hissing in frustration. "Honestly, what _is_ it with you people being in such an apologetic mood today?"

" _You_ do it sometimes," Ryan retorted.

"Only in serious situations." She relented, pausing to relax before turning back to face the medical student. "As for the probing question…" She shook her head. "Not all people do that. A lot of them are here for conquest, not unethical experimentation on random subjects such as humans. There are laws against that."

"Intergalactic law?" Oslo breathed. "That's actually a thing?"

"Yep," the Doctor confirmed.

"So what's Earth's legal status, then?" Khan asked, curious.

The Doctor leaned against the console unit. "Earth is a Level Five planet, meaning it has not yet developed the technology to travel to alien planets."

"Hang on a sec," O'Brien pointed out. "What about the International Space Station? And Neil Armstrong?"

"I was talking more along the lines of starship technology," the Doctor clarified. "Stuff seen in a bunch of sci-fi stuff. Only, it's not actually sci-fi."

A big grin appeared on Oslo's face. Kenji wished he could be as excited. _If only Hiromi and Maria could see this,_ he thought wistfully, heart aching for his sister. He walked to the other side of the room, taking a deep breath as he suddenly felt the urge to cry. Hiromi was into science fiction stuff, much like Oslo, but she always loved the stars. So much so, that she decided to major in chemistry and minor in physics.

" _I want to work on the International Space Station one day,"_ Hiromi had told him excitedly, just before she had started college. _"That way I'll be one step closer to reaching the stars and learning more about them."_

Kenji clenched his fist, scarcely aware of tears streaming down his face. _Hang on, im_ _ō_ _to. I'm coming for you._

"Everything all right, mate?"

Kenji turned, seeing Khan behind him. He waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll be fine."

"Hiromi Tanaka. She's your sister, isn't she?"

Kenji looked at her, stunned. "How did you—"

"I was assigned to the most recent missing persons case," the Constable explained. "I didn't make the connection until now."

Kenji was aware that there were more eyes on him now. He sighed. "Yeah. She was supposed to meet me for lunch that day, but she didn't show up. I called her roommate, and she said that Hiromi and Maria went out for a jog earlier that morning and never came back. She'd missed all of her classes. Her roommate couldn't get a hold of her, and neither could I. Not for a while, anyway."

"But you _were_ able to call her?" the Doctor asked.

Kenji shook his head. "No. _She_ called _me._ "

The alien's brow furrowed. "What did she say?"

"That she got spirited away from Sheffield to Tokyo in the blink of an eye. Maria wasn't with her," he added. He grimaced. "She was _scared,_ Doctor-san. She said she had to borrow somebody else's phone because the battery on hers completely crapped out shortly after she got there."

"Did she try calling Maria?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah. Apparently, the number's been disconnected."

The Doctor straightened, posture suggesting alarm. "Something's wrong." She ran to the console, switching to Japanese. "Tanaka-kun! Over here! And bring your mobile!"

Kenji hurried over to the console, surrendering his device. "What's happening?"

She switched back to English. "We need to trace the phone call to your sister to its place of origin." She pressed a button on a strange device, and his phone unlocked. The Doctor accessed his call log, frowning. "Which one did your sister call from?"

"Second from the top," he responded, frowning. "You know, you could have simply asked me to unlock my phone instead of hacking into it with…whatever that device is."

"Sonic screwdriver," she responded. "And I would have, but we're in a bit of an emergency right now."

"Explain."

"If it's what I think it is, then your sister may be in danger," she said grimly.

"What about Maria?" Ryan asked.

The Doctor paused, grimacing. "I'm afraid it would be best to assume she's dead."

Khan folded her arms, outraged. "Absolutely not!"

"Weeping Angels send their prey back through time whenever they feed," the Doctor retorted. "It makes too much sense in Maria's case. It's Hiromi's situation that I don't understand."

"Meaning?" Kenji asked sharply.

"It's likely one of two things: one, somebody teleported her over there, which is unlikely given what we know about Maria. Which isn't a lot, actually." She frowned. "Did Hiromi say exactly where they were when it happened?"

"No," Kenji responded.

"Oslo and I know," Khan responded. All eyes swivelled her way. "They were a few minutes away from Park Hill." She winced. "Not long after Nielsen and Wagner left to take Max and Erika Gentry to the station."

"Who?" Kenji asked.

"The Gentry's were a couple of meth junkies on my floor at Park Hill," Khan explained. "I'd gotten a tip from their neighbours, checked it out, and found a meth lab and a Weeping Angel in their flat." She pointed to the eye covered by the patch. "The latter gave me one hell of a shiner."

"What was a Weeping Angel even _doing_ there, anyway?" O'Brien asked.

Khan shrugged. "Mix-up at the flea market, apparently. So much so, that it escalated into a full-blown marital issue."

"Please tell me you didn't deal with it by yourself," the Doctor said sternly.

Khan glanced at her. "Don't worry, I called for backup: Inspector Nielsen and PC Wagner."

"And where are they now?"

Khan sat down on the stairs, a strange look in her eye. "Sheffield Hallam A&E. From what one of the other Inspectors said, they were in a bad car accident on the way to the station. Hit a deer."

"What of the Gentry's?" Ryan asked.

"Dead. Both of them. Erika died in the crash. Max…" She faltered.

The Doctor straightened, concern on her face. "Yaz?" The alien's voice was stern. "What is it that you're not saying?"

The Constable paled. "There was an incident on the walkway with the Angel," she confessed. "Max was high on meth. Really high. He looked the Angel right in the eye, challenged it, flipped it off, and then pushed it off the balcony. I thought that was the end of it, for a bit. Then he started counting down. If I had to guess, it was probably one number per minute."

"From ten?" The Doctor asked sharply, alarmed.

"Yeah," Khan admitted. "Scared the shit out of us. I thought it was just a side effect of the meth, until you _also_ started saying random numbers out of the blue."

The Doctor ran over to Khan, placing her hands on her shoulders. Kenji's mobile was all but forgotten in this situation. "Yaz, this is important. Do you know what was the last number Max said before he left Park Hill?"

Khan paused for a few seconds, deep in thought. "Three, I think."

The Doctor gritted her teeth, walking back to the console. "This is not good. Very not good."

"It gets worse," Oslo added, taking a deep breath. "It was Max's corpse that the coroner and I were investigating. The coroner looked that man's corpse in the eye and started counting down at the same rate. Less than twenty minutes later, he was dead. That image was still in his eye."

"The coroner's?" Khan asked.

"Yeah. _And_ Max's."

"How is that even possible?" Ryan asked. "Max and the Doctor both got a dose of the real thing. How could the coroner have gotten it too?"

"Because the image of a Weeping Angel _is_ a Weeping Angel," the Doctor said darkly. "Cameras, eyes, even psychic projections or just projected images in general. They won't manifest in photographs, but anything that can act as a projector is fair game."

"But, Doctor," Ryan asked, "what does the number have to do with anything?"

"It's an indicator of how much time Max had left before the Angel took over and killed him," she responded. "If I had to guess, the deer was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Otherwise, that Angel would have more than likely killed everyone in the police vehicle." Her brow furrowed. "But where do Hiromi and Maria fit into all of this? I don't think this was just a coincidence."

"Hiromi was the one who called in the accident," Oslo remarked. "Those two were probably jogging in that area when they found it."

"That would've had to have been _long_ after," Khan pointed out. "What happened with Max took place shortly before one a.m.; the call came in at five-thirty that same morning."

The Doctor frowned. "The Angel would've had more than enough time to kill everyone. Instead, it only got Max, and probably Maria as well, and spirited Hiromi away to Japan. Why is that?"

"Hang on," O'Brien asked. "How do we know we're dealing with the real thing, and not some image in somebody's eye? No offence to you, Doc."

"None taken."

Oslo folded his arms. "We have witnesses. Hiromi. Maria. Myself."

The Doctor raised her hand. "I can verify that last bit," she affirmed. "Oslo showed me the Coroner's Angel." She frowned, lowering her appendage. "So why did it go after you? You're just an intern."

"Dunno," Oslo shrugged. "Maybe it didn't want any witnesses?"

"Maybe." But there was something in the Doctor's voice that suggested she wasn't too sure. "Things aren't adding up." She grasped a lever, nearly all colour drained from her face.

"Are you okay, Doctor-san?" Kenji asked, alarmed.

"Me?" The Doctor let out a mirthless bark of laughter. "I'm fine. But we need answers. And in order to get those answers, we'll need to find your sister before the Angels do."

"Where are we going?" Oslo asked.

"Tokyo."

Something clicked in Kenji's mind. _This is a ship. An actual spaceship._ "This thing flies, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Obviously," the Doctor responded. "Why do you ask?"

Kenji gestured to O'Brien. "Aren't you worried about the property damage that will be done to his place?"

"It'll be fine," she reassured him.

"All she's done is break a few chairs," O'Brien added.

The Doctor looked up from her console, miffed. "Well, if you keep leaving chairs in places where we materialise, _of course_ they're going to break." She relaxed, colour returning to her cheeks. "Shall we?"

Kenji nodded, heart thudding in his chest. _Hang on, Hiromi-chan. We're coming. Just a little bit longer._

The Doctor pulled the lever.


	18. Chapter 18

Two things were coursing through Kenji's mind at that moment. The first was hope about getting his sister back.

The second was total and utter confusion.

As soon as the Doctor had pulled the lever, a whirring noise sounded off, both calming and perplexing at the same time. The arachnid-like legs surrounding the console unit and the centerpiece moved up and down in sync with the whirring's beats, as if they were intricately linked.

Who knows? They might be.

He stared at the structures, transfixed. The ship itself seemed to be reassuring him that it was going to be okay.

He hoped so.

"You have a beautiful ship, Doctor-san," Kenji breathed. The blonde woman smiled, placing a hand on one of the arachnid-like crystalline legs. "She's something special indeed." She returned to the console unit, pulling the lever back to its original position. The whirring stopped.

"Have we landed?" Oslo asked.

"Yes," the Doctor responded.

"Where are we?"

The alien checked a nearby computer screen. "Tōkyō. Still the same timeframe as we were in earlier. Ish. Japan's about nine hours ahead of Sheffield, so here it's already morning."

Kenji gestured to the door. "Mind if I step outside for a minute?"

The Doctor nodded. "Go for it."

Kenji exited the ship, seeing that they had landed in a market street. He checked his phone, curious.

 **22 JANUARY 2019, 08:57**

"We really are in Japan," he breathed, switching back to his native tongue. He ran back inside the ship, grinning. "We're in Japan! _Yahoooo!_ "

"Well, somebody's excited," O'Brien commented. He turned to the Doctor. "Think you'll be okay, Doc?"

The alien nodded, though Kenji could see nervousness written all over her face. He couldn't blame her in the slightest: finding out that you could be a key figure in an unknown plague simply _sounded_ terrifying to begin with.

"Let's get a shift on," she said, voice strong.

They exited the ship, taking in the sight of the market street as they walked down the road. Vendors were already set up, the smell of fresh food wafting in the air.

"So, which way do we go?" Oslo asked. Kenji paused, whirling around in surprise. Not because the question was a legitimate one, but the fact that he had asked it in Japanese.

"I thought you didn't speak Japanese," Kenji confronted him, confused.

Oslo raised an eyebrow. "I don't. I'm speaking English."

"You're speaking Japanese."

Khan frowned. "I hear English, mate."

"As do I," Ryan added.

"And me," said O'Brien.

Kenji shook his head. "I hear Japanese coming out of all of your mouths."

The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "It's the TARDIS translation matrix," she explained. "The ship is telepathic, and one of the perks is that she translates languages into either your native or preferred tongues whether she chooses to or not. It differs from person to person."

"So what is it that you hear, Doctor-san?" Kenji asked.

The Doctor paused, considering this. "I hear everything. Japanese from you, English from everyone else."

"When you say TARDIS…?" Oslo asked, confused. Kenji had to admit that he was also curious.

"My ship," the Doctor responded. "It's an acronym, short for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's a class of ship, actually, rather than merely being a name for just a singular ship."

"Cool!"

Kenji nodded in agreement, checking the tracking signal the Doctor had installed on his mobile. "She called from an Internet café about half a kilometre away."

"But which direction?" Ryan asked.

"Left."

They walked through the streets of the Japanese capital city, the brisk wind blowing towards them.

"You seem to know your way around pretty well, even without a tracker," Khan remarked.

"My family comes back to Japan every summer for vacation," Kenji explained. "Hiromi-chan and I used to frequent Tōkyō during the early college years."

"When you say, 'come back'?" the Doctor questioned.

"My sister and I were born in Ōsaka," Kenji explained. "We moved to England when we were kids because of our dad's job."

"What does he do?"

"He's a history professor at the University of Sheffield," Kenji told her.

The Doctor grinned. "History. I love history." The alien's eyes widened. "Wait. You said Hiromi-san frequented this city with you. That means she knew exactly where to go. Oh, she's clever!"

"Wait," Khan said, "you two have safe spots?"

"Yeah," Kenji confirmed. "But this Internet café isn't one of them."

"Regardless, we need to find her, and fast," the Doctor told them. "We have no way of knowing if the Angels are still after her."

Kenji nodded. "Let's get going."

The next few minutes were somewhat of a blur. Kenji was aware of the Doctor conversing with the others, but he tuned out what they were saying. His only focus was on finding Hiromi before the Angels did.

It wasn't long before Google Maps beeped on his phone.

" _In twenty metres, the destination will be on your left,"_ the electronic voice announced.

Kenji looked up, inhaling sharply. "We're almost there."

The Doctor walked up until she was beside him. Kenji noticed she looked slightly paler than she had been earlier. Was she worried as well? The look on her face told him the answer to that question was definitely "yes."

"We'll find her, Tanaka-kun," she reassured him.

Kenji nodded, taking another deep breath. _Here we go._

They entered the Internet café, door closing shut behind them. It didn't look that shady, which was a good sign.

"May I help you, sir?" the woman at the desk asked.

"I hope so," Kenji responded. "Is there a girl by the name of Tanaka Hiromi here, onēsan?"

"What is it to you?"

"I'm her older brother, Tanaka Kenji. I want to see her."

The woman nodded. "I'll let her know you're here." She left to go deeper into the establishment. Kenji turned around, glancing at the others. He knew they could tell he was nervous. Khan gave him a reassuring nod, and he turned back around, controlling his breathing.

A young woman walked out from behind a booth, confusion turning to surprise upon making eye contact with Kenji. She grinned, flinging herself at him. "Nīsan!"

"Imōto!" He returned the hug, tears falling down his face. _She's okay. She's okay._ "I was so worried about you, Hiromi-chan."

He could feel Hiromi nodding underneath the bear hug. They broke apart, bowing at each other as per Japanese custom. Hiromi noticed the others, raising an eyebrow. "Who are they?"

"We're his friends," the Doctor responded. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you, Tanaka-san."

Hiromi still looked uncertain. Kenji placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. "It's okay, imōto. You can trust them."

She nodded, paying the hostess. They left the establishment, breathing in the morning air. Kenji glanced at his sister, noticing dark circles under her eyes.

 _How much had she slept the past few days? Not as much as she should have, probably. Can't say I blame her._

"Nīsan?"

Kenji blinked. "What is it?"

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked. "I just called you a few hours ago. There's no way you could have hopped on a plane and got here in such a short amount of time."

He smiled wanly. "You'll find out soon enough."

Hiromi rolled her eyes, wiping the smile right off of her older brother's face. "Don't play games with me, nīsan."

 _Okay. Fine._ He gestured to the Doctor. "She brought us here to look for you."

"It still doesn't make any sense."

"It'll be easier if you see it for yourself, Tanaka-san!" the Doctor called. She was leading the group towards the market street.

"Do you want anything to eat while we're in the area?" Kenji asked.

Hiromi smiled slightly. "That would be nice, yes."

Kenji got the Doctor's attention, letting her know what he and Hiromi were doing. She nodded. "It's best to spend some time with each other. Be back at the TARDIS in half an hour. Do you remember the way, Tanaka-kun?"

"Yes," Kenji responded. "Thank you, Doctor-san."

The blonde blinked. "You can thank me once we finally get your sister out of this mess." She returned to the rest of the group, explaining what was going on. Kenji glanced at his sister, giving her a reassuring nod. "Shall we?"

Hiromi nodded. They headed towards a nearby food vendor. Kenji could feel his own stomach growling, but he needed to make sure Hiromi was fed first.

"I can pay," he told her. "Don't worry about spending anything right now. All I am concerned about at the moment is making sure you get a decent meal. Order whatever you want."

Hiromi ultimately decided on natto with rice and raw eggs, with ocha for a drink. Kenji bought some miso soup, paying for both meals. They received their orders within a couple of minutes, and the two headed back to the TARDIS.

"I honestly would have expected you to have gone to the park when you ended up here," Kenji remarked.

"I did," Hiromi told him. "I couldn't stay there overnight, so I checked in at that café instead."

"Makes sense."

Hiromi paused, taking a sip of ocha. "So, what's this 'TARDIS' the blonde lady was talking about earlier?"

"You mean Doctor-san?"

Hiromi nodded. Kenji grinned. "It's how we got here so fast." They walked for a few more moments before Kenji saw the ship near a koi pond. "You see that blue box, imōto? That's it."

Hiromi looked at him as though he was insane. "That's a British police box, _kono baka_."

"That's how it looks on the outside." He grinned. "Wait until you see the inside."

Hiromi raised an eyebrow but followed him to the ship anyway. Kenji freed up a hand to knock on the door. "Doctor-san! We're back!"

The door opened inwardly, revealing the woman responsible for getting them to Japan in the first place. "Tanaka Kyōdai! Excellent! Come on in!"

Kenji held the door open. "After you," he told his sister.

Hiromi looked at him, sceptical, entering. She let out an audible gasp upon seeing the inside of the ship. Kenji closed the door behind him, smiling slightly. "Who's the _baka_ now, imōto?"

"Shut up, nīsan," she retorted, though her tone was playful. "This is amazing!"

"Glad you think so," the Doctor said, grinning. "Welcome aboard!"

Hiromi walked towards the console, noticing the others. "Is this normal for you?" she asked, switching to English.

"Yep," Khan affirmed.

"Definitely," Ryan responded.

"Relatively speaking," O'Brien added.

Oslo shook his head. "I'm just as new to this as you and your brother."

Hiromi nodded, touching one of the crystalline, arachnid-like structures with an open palm. "This place is like a fairy tale," she remarked.

"Not a fairy tale, Tanaka-san," the Doctor responded, making her way over to the most recent passenger to the ship. "But rather, highly advanced technology."

"And it's hiding inside a police box?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Not exactly. The police box is the cloaking device in order for this to blend in. Or try to, anyway. It malfunctioned at one point during the 1960s and I didn't really care to fix it."

"The 1960s?" Hiromi echoed, still sceptical. "What are you, some sort of time traveller?"

"Essentially."

She gestured to the others. "And what? You lot are from the future?"

"Nope," Ryan said. "Same time as you."

Hiromi glanced at the Doctor. "So where are you from, then, Doctor-san?"

The Doctor paused. From Kenji's perspective, it looked as though wherever or whatever the Doctor's origins were, it must have been painful.

"Not Earth," she responded after a few seconds.

Hiromi's eyes widened. "You're an alien?! A real, actual alien?! Not human?"

"Correct on all three, Hiromi-chan." She put a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You'll be safe here. But we need to know what happened the morning you were spirited away to Tōkyō."

Hiromi shrank back. "Why do you? You're not police!"

" _I_ am, actually," Khan piped up. "PC Yasmin Khan, Hallamshire Police. I was assigned to the case involving you and Maria. Please, just trust us. We came here to find you, Hiromi, not to hurt you. Do you know where Maria is?"

Hiromi shook her head. Khan frowned. "What do you remember?"

Hiromi looked up, very pale. "Maria-chan and I were out jogging when we came across a wreck," she said slowly. "She told me to call an ambulance while she went to check for survivors. By the time I got off the phone, she was gone."

The Doctor looked at her intensely. "Hiromi-chan, what I am going to ask you next is very important. What did you see afterwards?"

Hiromi turned even paler. Kenji glanced down at her, very worried, but she took a breath and responded: "A flipped vehicle. No sign of Maria. And—" She started to hyperventilate. Khan knelt down in front of her, placing both hands on her shoulders. "It's going to be okay, Hiromi. Just breathe."

Hiromi nodded, breathing starting to normalize after a minute. She looked directly at Kenji this time, fear written all over her face. "There was also the statue. The Angel statue." She sighed, facing Khan and the Doctor. "Something about it didn't feel right. I ran, and the next thing I knew I was at a train station in Tōkyō."

"At the exact same time you left?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes."

The Doctor sighed, bowing her head. "If Maria was already gone, then that means…" She trailed off, turning back to the console.

Hiromi stood, colour returning to her face, along with an angry expression. "Then that means _what,_ Doctor-san? Where is she?!"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

"That's not good enough!" Hiromi snapped.

"It's going to have to be until we have more information as to what we're dealing with!" the Doctor snarled back. Hiromi flinched. Kenji sighed. "Imōto, over here," he called, switching to Japanese. Hiromi walked over, tears flowing down her face. Kenji sighed. "Look. I don't want to believe that anything bad happened to Maria-san any more than you do. But we have to look at this situation from that kind of angle."

"She's not dead!" Hiromi snarled. Her voice softened. "She can't be."

"Look at the signs," Kenji implored her. "Her phone number got disconnected. She got spirited away by the same thing that got you. These Angel statues, they have been killing people, not to mention infecting people with some kind of retinopathic image that makes them count down to their deaths after looking those bastards in the eye for too long. You may have gotten lucky, but that might not be the same for Maria."

Hiromi glared at him. "Liar!"

Kenji gave her a fulminating look. "Imōto—"

Hiromi ignored her. In a swift move, she stole Khan's gun from her police belt and pointed the weapon at the Doctor, hand shaking. The alien's eyes were wide. "Hiromi-chan, please put the gun down."

"Do what the Doctor says, please," Kenji implored her.

"Shut up!" Hiromi snapped, switching to English. "Take me to Maria-chan. NOW."

A single tear fell down the Doctor's face. To Kenji's horror, it was filled with something that looked suspiciously like stone particles. Hiromi lowered the weapon slightly, uncertain.

The Doctor took a deep breath, wiping her face, expression turning to alarm after noticing the particles on her hand. She nodded, as if somehow resigned to something. "Put it down, and I will show you how to get to her."

Hiromi tilted her head. "How do you expect me to do that, if I might never see her again?" she asked, voice broken and filled with despair.

"At least you'll know for certain what happened to your girlfriend," the Doctor said, voice heavy. "You're afraid of the truth; I get that. But you can't run from it forever. None of us can."

Hiromi's hand shook even more. Kenji stepped forwards, worried that his sister might accidentally shoot the Doctor, but she lowered her hand after a few seconds. The pistol fell to the floor, clattering. He scooted away from the console unit, nervous.

Khan picked it up, placing it back into her holster. "Just for the record," she said after a few seconds, "it wasn't loaded."

"You didn't think to mention that bit earlier?" O'Brien asked, annoyed.

"Enough," the Doctor snapped. She took a deep breath, placing a hand on Hiromi's shoulder. "Come on. Let's talk for a sec."

* * *

Hiromi glanced at the Doctor, worried. The blonde switched back to Japanese, looking the younger woman directly in the face. "Before you say anything, Tanaka-san, just know that I am not angry with you."

Hiromi looked at her, surprised. "How could you not be? I nearly killed you." Tears fell down her face.

"Despair makes us act drastically, and oftentimes not rationally," the Doctor said gently. "I've been there."

Hiromi scoffed. "Really? I doubt _you've_ lost anyone you've loved to those statue things."

The Doctor's expression darkened. Hiromi grimaced, realizing she had said exactly the wrong thing. The blonde woman sighed. "I have, actually."

 _There you go, baka,_ Hiromi scolded herself. _You really fucked up this time._ She blinked. "I'm sorry, Doctor-san. I didn't know."

"It's not something I like talking about," she retorted.

"Is the rest of your past so painful?" The younger woman asked.

The Doctor smiled wanly. "Not always. Everything has good things, and everything has bad things. It's a dichotomy we can't shake."

Hiromi nodded. "Can I ask you one more question, Doctor-san?"

The Doctor shrugged, smile fading. "At this point, you might as well."

"The people you lost to those things. You still miss them, don't you?"

The Doctor paused, nodding. "I miss them, yes."

 _Oh._ Hiromi frowned. "So how is it that you cope with so much loss?"

"I never forget them." She walked over to Hiromi, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And you shouldn't forget your lover either, Hiromi-chan."

 _Yeah, but I don't want to believe she's gone, either._ She looked up at the alien. "What is it you want me to do?"

* * *

The Doctor placed the headgear on Hiromi, fine-tuning the electrodes. "That should just about do it."

"Can you remind me exactly what we're doing?" Graham asked. "Because I'm still lost."

"TARDIS telepathic circuitry," the Doctor explained. "Without a working mobile number, this is our only way to find Maria." She moved faster than she'd intended to, adrenaline making her go on edge. Images of 2012 Manhattan flashed through her mind, but she forced them back. Barely.

"All right, Hiromi," the Doctor instructed. "Close your eyes and think of Maria. Focus only on her."

Hiromi nodded, closing her eyes. Tension was very much present on her face, as were tears. The TARDIS started to move.

"What happens now?" Oslo asked.

The Doctor blinked. "We wait."

Her hearts thumped in her chest, agitation threatening to get the best of her. The Doctor paced the console room, anxiety kicking in the sensation of _needing to get the hell out of—_

The sound of the TARDIS landing distracted her from the train of thought. Hiromi's eyes opened, bloodshot, tears still present on her face. The Doctor ran over to her, removing the headgear and placing it back on the console unit.

"Where are we?" Hiromi asked.

The Doctor walked over to a nearby monitor, checking the screen. She frowned. "Amsterdam, today, about three minutes into the future."

"Amsterdam?" Yaz asked. "We're in the Netherlands?"

"Yep."

"Let's go," Hiromi said. "The sooner we find Maria-chan, the better."

The Doctor nodded. Kenji was already by the door, but his expression conveyed what looked to be uncertainty. Or was that worry? Or fear?

 _Social awkwardness kicking in again, probably. Or stress. Get it together, Doctor._

"Uh, Hiromi-chan—" Kenji began, speaking in Japanese, but the younger sibling barrelled outside past him, closing the door behind her. He sighed. "Damn."

The Doctor tilted her head. "Kenji?" She didn't bother switching languages at this point. "What's wrong?" Her tone became darker. "What are you so worried about?"

Kenji was pale. "I took a look out the window," he said hoarsely.

"We're in Amsterdam, mate," Yaz told him.

Kenji's expression bore into the Constable's. "We're in a fucking _cemetery._ "

The Doctor's eyes widened. _No. Oh, please, no. Not again._ She pushed past the elder Tanaka, pulling the door open.

Sure enough, Kenji was right. The Doctor exited the TARDIS, walking slowly. It didn't take her long to find Hiromi, kneeling in front of a single headstone. One that bore the name Maria Hendricks.

 _No._

 _It's Manhattan all over again._

Just that realisation was enough for the flashbulb memory to kick in.

 _The surviving Angel. Rory. Amy. River—_

She felt a hand on her shoulder. The Doctor jumped, spooked, only to relax slightly when she saw that the hand belonged to Graham.

"How can that be Maria?" Yaz asked. "Her records stated that she was twenty-one. The headstone says she was ninety-five years old."

"It's just as I told you that night," the Doctor said darkly. "Weeping Angels send their victims into the past and feed off what would have been their futures."

"People like Maria," Oslo surmised. Disgust was present on his face. "This is—this is just cruel."

"This is how the Angels normally kill," the Doctor told him.

"Can't we make them stop?"

The Doctor shook her head. "They're predators. It's in their nature." She glanced at Kenji. "Keep a very close eye on her. Where there's a cemetery, there are statues. There may be Angels lurking around."

Kenji blinked. "I'll give you a shout if I see anything."

The Doctor nodded. "Tanaka-kun?" she asked as the human was en route, switching to Japanese. Kenji turned around, facing her. "Whatever you do, don't blink. Don't take your eyes off of them. But _do not_ look them in the eye."

He nodded, resuming the trek towards his sister.

Yaz turned towards the Doctor. "If it's okay with you, Doctor, I'd like to go pay my respects."

"So would we," Ryan said. Graham and Oslo nodded in unison.

The Doctor gave them a hard look. "Go ahead," she said sympathetically. "But be very, very careful."

The rest of the TARDIS's occupants made their way to where Hiromi was. The Doctor made her way back to the TARDIS, tears flowing down her face as she made her way back.

 _Rory._

 _Amy._

 _Maria._

 _I couldn't save them._

" _Don't blame yourself, Doctor,"_ Rory's voice said inside her head. _"It wasn't your fault, either of those times."_

"Shut up," the Doctor whispered, though it had no bite to it. She just felt numb at this point.

 _It happened again. It happened again._

She gritted her teeth, memories of Manhattan returning stronger than ever.

" _DOCTOR!"_

"Amy," she whispered. _These memories, they're—_

" _DOCTOR-SAN!"_

The Doctor whipped her head up. She hadn't been dreaming after all. She turned, eyes widening in horror.

An entire army of Weeping Angels swarmed the ridge, only metres away from the others.

"This can't be happening," she breathed. "Weeping Angels don't normally behave like this."

Except…it _was_ happening.

She froze, panicking. This was almost like Manhattan all over again, except instead of one Angel there were hundreds.

" _Do what you have to do, Raggedy Man,"_ Amy implored her. _"You might not have been able to save me and Rory…but you can still save them."_

The Doctor steeled herself. She took a deep breath…

…and ran like a bat out of hell towards those under her responsibility.

 _Don't blink don't blink don't blink don't blink don't blink don't—_

She skidded to a halt behind them. The Angels were a bit closer now, but not close enough to corner their prey.

"All of you, back to the TARDIS," she ordered.

"What about you?" Ryan asked.

"Don't worry about me!" she snapped. "Go!"

"I'm not leaving!" Hiromi groaned, grief and anguish in her voice.

The Doctor's blood chilled. _Amy._

Kenji put a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing we can do for Maria-chan," he told her in Japanese. "We need to go. Now."

" _NO!"_

"Don't argue!" Kenji snarled. "If we don't head back, we are all going to die! Do you seriously think Maria-chan would want that?"

Hiromi glared at him, then turned tail and fled for the TARDIS.

The Doctor gave Kenji a grateful look. "Thank you," she said in Japanese.

Kenji nodded, fleeing after his sister.

The Doctor stared down the Angels, terrified.

Almost against her will, she blinked.

* * *

 _The Doctor ran into her TARDIS, finding the White-Haired Scotsman waiting for her. "This seems familiar."_

" _Just be glad you're not facing the Veil," the Twelfth Doctor said darkly. He pulled out a chalkboard, wheeling the behemoth into the console room. The Scotsman tossed her a stick of chalk. "Time for a plan, Doctor."_

" _Agreed." She glanced at him. "Weeping Angels don't normally act like this—so what's affecting their behaviour? And why now?"_

" _That is a good question," the Twelfth Doctor responded. "Write it down."_

 _His successor obeyed, glancing over once she was finished._

 _The Scotsman looked over it, nodding. "Leave it up there for now. We'll come back to it later."_

" _This seems pretty important," the Thirteenth Doctor protested._

" _At the moment, you have six people under your care," the Twelfth retorted. "Right now, your priority should be focused on survival."_

" _Right," the Thirteenth acquiesced. "I should have thought more about this. I've just had a lot going on lately. That Angel in my eye, for starters. Is it going to breach this place?"_

" _Not necessarily," the Twelfth reassured her. "This is your mind palace, your castle. It is fortified, but you mustn't let it in."_

 _The Thirteenth Doctor frowned. "I can feel it stirring."_

" _That's because it is in close proximity_ _to other_ _Angels." The Twelfth glanced at her briefly before returning to the board. A single question was written:_

 _ **WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?**_

* * *

The Angels were just a little bit closer now. The Doctor exhaled sharply, glaring at them. "All right, you lot," she said, hearing her voice wavering slightly. "I know you probably can't respond to me, so hear this: Earth is not a feeding ground. And it is especially not a place for an alien army."

The Angels did nothing. Not that she expected them to, as they were still quantum-locked. The Doctor took a deep breath.

 _This is for Amy. For Rory. For Maria._

"Get off this planet," she hissed. At nearly the same time, she felt something stirring inside her, the same as when she was in her mind palace barely a moment earlier.

Something…foreign.

"The Alpha is required."

The Doctor looked up, confused. _Was it one of the Angels who had said that?_

"The Alpha is required," the voice repeated, coming from the Angel leading the pack.

The Doctor frowned. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Who did you kill to speak?"

"A gravedigger about fifty metres back. He will not be missed."

The Doctor scoffed. "I highly doubt that." She looked at the pack leader. "If you want your Alpha so badly, why come to the Netherlands of all places? It could be anywhere."

"The Alpha is here, Doctor. They are in your eye, waiting to emerge."

"Great," she muttered sarcastically. Her lips drew back into a snarl. "I don't get it; Weeping Angels are called the 'Lonely Assassins' for a reason. They're not pack animals; and they certainly don't need a leader."

"We no longer care."

The Doctor looked at them, appalled. "Just what I need: a group of nihilistic predators."

"Give us the Alpha, or everyone you love dies."

"I can't _give_ you anything," the Doctor retorted. "My countdown hasn't finished. It can't be controlled externally."

"You do realize the Alpha is still in your eye, right?"

"Yeah, I know," she told the Angel. "And I'm still fighting it."

"This is not a fight you can win."

The Doctor bared her teeth. "Try me." She changed the subject. "On another note, why do you need an Alpha? Why is _one_ Weeping Angel so important all of a sudden?"

"The Alpha is strong. We need time energy to feed, and they will help us take over the cosmos."

The Doctor frowned. "I see multiple flaws in your plan, Beta? Can I call you Beta?"

"Names are irrelevant with our kind."

"It doesn't matter to me; I need to call you _some_ thing," the Doctor retorted. "Anyway, Beta, if your plan works the way you want it to, you will end up blowing a hole in the Time Vortex because, assuming you lot feed on quadrillions at any given time, it will adversely affect the natural flow of time itself. Secondly, there's no guarantee the Alpha will even _want_ you. Nor do you really know what the Alpha is going to do once they emerge. You've failed to take even that slightly important little detail into account."

She blinked. In that fraction of a second, the Angel she dubbed "Beta" had moved towards her, lips curled into a snarl. "Why are you bitching about this, Doctor? You will be out of the equation when the Alpha emerges."

"I think I'd rather like to disagree with that," the Doctor countered. "You'll be in big trouble once the Time Lords find out about your scheme. Knowing them, they'll probably unleash something worse than a Time War on your arse."

Beta laughed maniacally, as did the rest of the Angels. The chilling chord was enough to set the Doctor on edge even more so than she was already.

The Doctor folded her arms, unamused. "Was it something I said?"

"You're bluffing, Gallifreyan. Why would the Time Lords punish us? Our species are more alike than you think."

 _The Weeping Angels of Old,_ Rassilon had said to the Tenth Doctor regarding the Time Lords, years upon years ago. The Doctor had to admit that she didn't know a lot about the origins of the Lonely Assassins—not that she had bothered to do much research on them. Any interest she had in studying those monsters died with Amy and Rory in Manhattan.

"Go to hell," the Doctor snarled.

 _Something's coming._

The Gallifreyan straightened. In the blink of an eye, some of Beta's troops restrained the Doctor, brutally forcing her onto her knees.

"Give us the Alpha," Beta ordered. _"Now."_

* * *

 _The Thirteenth Doctor glanced at her predecessor, gesturing to the question he had written. "I'm not going to give them the Alpha," she told the Scotsman._

" _What of your friends?" asked the Twelfth Doctor._

 _The Thirteenth Doctor shrugged. "With any luck, they'll already be back at the TARDIS by now. The Angels are a lot more interested in me than they are them."_

 _The Scotsman put a hand on her shoulder. "Come with me."_

 _Thirteen's brow furrowed. "Where are we going?"_

 _Twelve straightened. "It's better if you see for yourself."_

 _The two Doctors walked out of the TARDIS, into their office at St. Luke's University. Further walking led them to an area Thirteen recognized as the Vault._

 _Thirteen folded her arms. "Missy? Really?"_

" _No, not her," Twelve corrected. "Something else."_

 _The two of them walked inside. Thirteen froze after a single step, horrified._

 _Inside Missy's old cage, was herself. Or something that resembled Thirteen, anyway. A Weeping Angel with her face and appearance was a more accurate way to describe it. Instead of the usual tunic, the creature wore a pantsuit slightly resembling Thirteen's trousers on the bottom, flowing a bit on the top. The Angel's wings looked more detailed than other Lonely Assassins she had seen. It was also barefoot. The creature sat in the cage, on top of Missy's piano, staring intently at them._

" _The Alpha?" Thirteen breathed._

" _Yes," Twelve confirmed. "They are quantum-locked for now."_

" _But why the Vault, though?" Thirteen wondered._

" _Just as it was a cage for Missy, the one in your mind acts as a cage for the Alpha in order to keep it from invading your brain further."_

" _Sort of like Jonesy's office," Thirteen remarked._

" _If you want to think of it like that, sure," Twelve acquiesced. "And in that analogy, the Alpha is your Mr Gray."_

 _Thirteen pulled a face. "Grey in more ways than one."_

 _Twelve shrugged. "You two will probably need to talk. But decide quickly what you will do." The Scotsman exited the Vault, locking the door behind him, leaving his successor to the mercy of the creature inside._

 _Thirteen gulped, slowly walking forward until she was only about a metre away from the cage itself. To her utter shock and horror, the Alpha moved from the piano, walking until they were able to press their palm on the glass._

" _Hello, Doctor," they said. The Angel's voice sounded like Thirteen's own but had a slightly more ethereal air._

" _Hi," Thirteen said awkwardly, tense and nervous. "How are we even talking? No; better question: How are you even moving without me blinking? Aren't you supposed to be quantum-locked?"_

" _The quantum lock is under your control, Doctor," the Alpha responded. "I am you. You control me."_

 _Thirteen slammed her palm on the glass, angry. "You are_ not _me! We are not the same!"_

 _The Alpha's response was not one of anger, which worried Thirteen, because that was the emotion she had expected. No; the Angel simply…smiled. But it was a small smile, mirthless. "You're scared. And afraid. I get that."_

" _Of course I am!" Thirteen retorted. "Do you honestly think I asked for this?"_

" _No," the Alpha said simply. "I didn't ask for this, either."_

" _So what are you?!"_

 _The Alpha stretched. "Like the bushy-haired guy with you said, I'm your Mr Gray."_

 _Thirteen sighed. "I guess that makes me Jonesy, then."_

" _I don't understand the reference."_

 _Thirteen glanced at the Alpha. "You've been in my head for the past five, going on six, days now, haven't you? Surely you've had access to some of my memories."_

" _Very few, actually," the Alpha admitted. "Your current self. Your companions. The ship, and the three strays you dragged in along with the three you already travel with. I know you are a Time Lord, and that your origins were on Gallifrey. But as far as popular culture goes…not really."_

 _Thirteen smiled wanly, knowing that her mental defences were holding up. For now. That smile quickly faded, however._

 _The Alpha tilted their head. "They want me." A cruel smile appeared on their face. "Okay."_

 _Thirteen clenched her fist. "I'm_ not _handing you over to them."_

" _My dear," the Alpha purred, "who said anything about that?"_

* * *

The Doctor glared at Beta, an insane smile spreading across her face. "You want the Alpha so badly? Well, don't say I didn't warn you." She reached into her pocket, grasping her sonic screwdriver. The Time Lord pointed it at the neural balancer, pressing the button, and everything was gone.

* * *

The Tanaka siblings ran into the TARDIS, Kenji slamming the door shut behind him. Hiromi tried to run for the doors, but her brother barred access to the exit. He shouted something at her in Japanese, but Ryan couldn't understand what he was saying.

 _I guess the TARDIS isn't in the mood for translating at the moment._

"Where's the Doctor?!" Yaz asked.

"She told me to get Hiromi back to the TARDIS," Kenji explained, switching back to English.

"She wasn't behind you?"

Kenji's brow furrowed. "Apparently not."

 _Damn it._ Ryan glanced at the others. "We need to find her. Fast."

"As much as I'd like to agree with you, Ryan, if we go back out there we're finished," Graham pointed out. He gestured to the console. "If we can somehow manage to find a way to materialize around the Doc it might be beneficial for all of us."

The TARDIS lights turned red, accompanied by a low-pitched whirring sound.

Hiromi frowned. "I guess TARDIS-sama doesn't approve."

"Like it or not, though, Doctor-san is in danger, and we're running low on options," Kenji retorted.

The TARDIS lights remained red, but the ship started to move. The alarms from several days earlier started to sound. A few seconds later, they landed, but the alarms still resounded.

"Any idea where we are?" Oslo asked.

Ryan walked up to a computer screen, seeing a map of the distance they had travelled. "About a quarter-mile from where we were earlier."

"Still in the cemetery?"

"I think so."

 _Ugh._

Oslo glanced at them. "So what do we do now?"

"Find her, obviously," Hiromi retorted, moving towards the door. Kenji put his hands on her shoulders. "Oh no, you don't."

Hiromi groaned. "Nīsan…"

Kenji's face was stern. "We just got you back, sis. The last thing we need is to put you back at the mercy of those Angels."

Hiromi opened her mouth to object, but Ryan cut her off. "I'll go."

Yaz's good eye widened. "Ryan?!"

"Are you sure about this?" Graham asked.

"No," Ryan admitted. "But we're not leaving one of us behind. Not ever." He walked outside, shutting the door behind him. The air outside was cool and crisp.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I am definitely getting some bad vibes here."

Ryan stopped at a point a short distance from the TARDIS, equal parts stunned and horrified at the sight that was befalling him.

Stone dust was scattered across the graveyard; rather, that area of it. Ryan looked down at his feet, seeing that he was walking on some of it, and, after looking back towards the TARDIS, saw that the ship had materialized on some of this as well.

 _So where's the Doctor?_

He gulped, facing forwards. He needed to find her—fast.

"DOCTOR?" he hollered, running deeper into the fields of stone dust. He skidded to a halt a few moments later, eyes wide.

About five-ish metres in front of him stood a familiar figure wearing a light blue-grey trenchcoat, hood up. Something seemed…off, though. Ryan didn't quite know how to put it, but something wasn't right about this.

 _No sudden moves._

The Doctor turned to face him, pulling down her hood. Like a villain in a horror movie, her eyes were rolled back into her head, only the whites visible. A maniacal grin appeared on her face.

"Hello, Ryan."


	19. Chapter 19

22 JANUARY 2019, 01:58

AMSTERDAM

Ryan stood still, shocked and horrified at the sight in front of him. It was definitely the Doctor, but the white eyes and malevolent demeanor seemed to suggest otherwise. He swallowed. "Doctor?"

"Don't worry, she's still alive," the figure in front of him reassured him. She had the Doctor's voice, but an eerie undertone lurked underneath. "She's just taking a long nap upstairs." She pointed to the Doctor's head.

 _If it's not her, then that means…_

"You're the Angel," he whispered.

The figure snapped her fingers, pointing directly at him. "Nice job! Gold star for you, Ryan."

Ryan shuddered. "I'd rather you dropped the act. It's freaking me out a bit."

The Angel huffed. "Geez, Ryan, you hurt my feelings." She smirked. "If I _had_ any, that is." She shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the fact that what she was doing to the Doctor seemed to be coming straight from a horror movie.

"So what is it that you want?" Ryan asked. "Near as I can tell, the Doctor's countdown isn't up yet."

The Angel shrugged. "Long story short, those Angels wanted me. The Doctor didn't want to hand me over. And, quite frankly, I wasn't too keen about those weaklings using me for their own nefarious purposes. I did what I had to do to survive."

"And where are the other Angels now?"

The Angel gestured to the stone dust his feet. "You're standing in what's left of them."

Out of instinct, Ryan looked down, suddenly feeling nauseous. He looked back at her, stunned. "You killed them?"

"You're welcome," the Angel confirmed, essentially confirming that assertion. "I made sure to redistribute the dust so they couldn't reform. You and your friends are safe." She shrugged. "For now."

"So, what?" Ryan asked. "Are you going to kill us?"

"Kill you?" The Angel let out a sharp bark of laughter, something chilling considering it came from the Doctor's mouth. "Ha! Don't be daft; it's not your time yet, Ryan Sinclair. I can see that much. As for the Doctor, well, she's got a few days still."

"Okay," he said slowly, "Thank you for saving our lives. But I'd like my friend back now."

The Angel tilted her head to the side. "No."

Ryan folded his arms. "What do you mean, 'no?' As far as I can tell, she's no good to you alive, right? So hand her over."

"On the contrary," the Angel retorted. "I control everything. I can accelerate or decelerate the countdown inside her head. I can kill her on the inside or quantum-lock her whenever someone looks at her. Or I can still fight and choose not to use the quantum lock. I might not be fully grown yet, Ryan Sinclair, but I'd watch yourself if I were you. One false move, and all of you will suffer."

"You're possessing her."

"You knew that already." The Angel held up a hand in front of her face, fascinated. "Curious," she mused. "So this is what flesh and blood feels like."

Ryan didn't know what to say. The whole situation was simply too bizarre to fully process.

 _Okay, Ryan. Think. How are you going to save the Doctor?_

He looked unblinkingly at the Angel. It still moved, much to his horror.

 _This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought._

"I can tell you want to run."

Ryan turned, yelping when he saw that, somehow, the Angel had moved behind him in the blink of an eye. The Angel didn't blink, instead smirking.

"Go on, then," it said simply. "Run, Ryan Sinclair. Run like the pathetic little rodents you humans are."

It was especially disturbing to hear _that_ coming out of the Doctor's mouth, especially since the woman had made it her priority to protect mankind.

 _You know there's only one choice if you want to make it out alive._

He made his decision.

He fled.

Not because humans were pathetic; no, he ran because he couldn't come up with a plan to save the matriarch of Team TARDIS.

Ryan bolted back to the TARDIS, not daring to look backwards. For all he knew, the Angel could be right behind him. Or it could be waiting for him back at the ship. Either way, he didn't want to take his chances.

After what seemed like forever, he saw a familiar blue box, sprinting towards it. He banged frantically on the door. "It's me! Let me in!" His voice jumped up several octaves upon noticing the possessed Doctor out of the corner of his eye, only meters behind him. _"LET ME IN!"_

The door opened. Ryan ran inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Hiromi looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Ryan-kun?"

"We're in trouble," he said worriedly.

"What the hell are you even talking about, mate?" Oslo asked, confused. "Where's the Doctor?"

"Outside. But something's _really_ wrong with her."

Yaz's uninjured eye narrowed. "As in—?"

Ryan paused to catch his breath, panting. "Angel. Took over."

" _WHAT?!"_

"The Doctor's still alive," Ryan reassured her quickly. "It's only possessing her. Sort of like what that Dalek was doin' to my dad and Lin."

"That's not much better," Graham muttered. "And unlike that Dalek, something tells me we can't throw that Angel into a supernova. Not without killing the Doc in the process."

Kenji ran a few fingers through his hair, agitated. "We could always sedate her. But I don't know a damn thing about her biology or even _what_ kind of alien she is. For all I know, tranquilizers could kill her or do some serious damage." He glanced at Ryan. "Do you know what kind of alien she is?"

Ryan shook his head. "No. She never told any of us."

"And believe me, we've asked," Graham added.

"It might be painful to talk about," Hiromi suggested. "It's possible some things might have happened with her people."

"Either way, that's up to Doctor-san to divulge when and if she is ready to do so," Kenji said sternly. He frowned. "Speaking of Doctor-san, where even is she?"

A new set of alarms started to go off. Yaz ran to a monitor, paling. "It's a proximity alert," she said slowly.

"The Doctor?" Oslo asked.

"Yeah," Yaz admitted. "But there is something really, really off about her, like Ryan said."

"As in?" Graham asked.

"You ever see _Insidious?_ "

"Only once," Graham responded. His jaw dropped. "Don't tell me."

The look on Yaz's face revealed enough.

As if on cue, the TARDIS doors swung open, revealing the Doctor. The possessed alien walked inside, only the whites of the eyes visible. She looked at them unblinkingly, a cruel smile on her face. "Which one of you shall I screw around with first?"

"How about none of us, bitch!" Hiromi snarled.

The Angel's head tilted to the side. "Tanaka Hiromi," she whispered, approaching her. "I'm so glad you volunteered."

"Like hell I did!" she spat. "Your kind has already made my life miserable! What more could you possibly do?"

Ryan put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful what you ask for," he warned. "You might just find out."

"So what is it that you want with us, eh?" Graham asked.

The Angel stood, facing him. "I can't exactly kill you," she admitted. "The Doctor's still got that much control over the situation." She grinned. "But that doesn't mean that I can't have a little bit of fun in the process."

"I'd hate to see your definition of 'fun', then, considering you just wiped out hundreds of your own kind outside," Ryan said darkly.

Hiromi's eyes widened. "The Angels? They're dead?"

"Very."

"Like I told you, Ryan, I didn't want them to use me for their own personal gain," the Angel responded. The creature moved closer to the console unit.

Ryan gulped, walking slowly towards Yaz. "Got any ideas?" he whispered.

Yaz shook her head frantically, uninjured eye wide with what looked like fear. She placed one hand on the holster, holding in the other what appeared to be ammo.

"No, Yaz!" Ryan hissed. "If you hurt that thing, you could hurt the Doctor as well!"

Yaz paused, removing her hand from the gun. She put the ammo back on her belt. "What do you think we should do?" she whispered.

"No clue; why else do you think I'm askin' you?!"

"Will you two shut up and look for a sec?!" Oslo snapped, pointing in the direction of the Angel—no, Ryan had to remind himself, the Doctor. He looked, eyes widening in shock.

The possessed Doctor placed a hand on the console, admiring it with what looked to be something with fascination. But that wasn't what Ryan's attention seconds later.

The arachnid-like legs surrounding the TARDIS emitted electrical tendrils of light, wrapping them around the Doctor. The alien bore her teeth, struggling, but they wrapped tighter and tighter around her until she was forced onto her knees.

"A hi-tech spiderweb," Kenji remarked. "Which one of you did that?"

Ryan, Graham, and Yaz looked at each other, all equally confused. "None of us, mate," Yaz responded.

"I didn't do it either," Hiromi added.

"Nor I," said Oslo.

"I guess the TARDIS has more tricks built in than we thought," Graham remarked, surprised.

A nearby lever pulled, sending some sort of signal into the Doctor. The woman jerked back violently, causing Ryan to cry out in alarm.

The Doctor gasped, eyes rolling forwards. Kenji took a step forward, cautious. "Doctor-san?"

The Doctor nodded, gritting her teeth. "G…get us out of here. Now."

Various levers moved on their own, and the familiar sound of the TARDIS's moving engines resounded throughout the room.

"Where are we going?" Hiromi asked.

"Who cares?" Oslo retorted. "Just so long as it's away from those things."

The TARDIS landed a moment later, releasing its web around the Doctor. The alien collapsed, still. Kenji ran over to her, checking for a pulse.

"Nīsan?" Hiromi asked, worried.

He looked up at them, pale. "She's still with us, but she's experiencing tachycardia. I'm not sure what her cardiovascular system is like, but I don't think her heart is supposed to be beating that fast."

"She's got two hearts, actually," Yaz piped up. "So, I guess, divide the heart rate by half in this case."

" _Two_ hearts?" Kenji echoed, surprised. He put on a stethoscope, turning the Doctor on her back as he checked her chest. Ryan could feel sweat coming from his brow, worry for his friend taking over. The medical student stepped away from her after a moment, sighing. "She's got both pulses. It's not tachycardia, I don't think, though I'm not quite sure what is a normal BPM for someone with a binary cardiovascular system. In fact, I've never heard of anything _like_ it before now."

"But will she be okay, though?" Ryan asked.

Kenji shrugged. "Hard to say, really. I'll need medical data, but there is no way in _hell_ I am taking her to a hospital. She'll need to stay here, or with someone." He looked around, pocketing the stethoscope. "Does this ship have medical capabilities?"

"Yes," Ryan responded, remembering how the Doctor had treated Lin's injuries earlier that month. "They're pretty advanced, from what I saw of it."

"It'll have to do."

Graham frowned. "Where exactly are we, anyway?"

"Let's find out," Yaz responded, opening the door.

Ryan wasn't sure what to expect, but he certainly didn't expect a larger than average, long-haired cat to waltz inside. It paused near the console unit to wash itself.

Hiromi grinned, running towards the feline. "Jasper!" She picked the cat up, who meowed in surprise but accepted the action. He nuzzled his face against Hiromi's, purring.

"That's your cat?" Oslo asked.

"Mine and Ilana's," she affirmed. "We got him from the shelter shortly after we paid the first month's rent."

"Ilana's your flatmate, I take it?" Yaz asked. Hiromi nodded. Yaz stretched. "Is it just you two?"

"Us and the cat, yes," Hiromi confirmed. She smiled slightly. "Ilana's going to be glad to see that I'm okay."

"Are you, really, imōto?" Kenji asked cautiously.

Hiromi sighed. "I will be."

" _What the fuck?!"_

Ryan turned, seeing a freckly ginger-haired woman in the doorway, eyes wide. Hiromi turned, grinning. "Ilana-chan!"

Ilana ran towards her flatmate, stunned. "You're okay! But how?" She glanced around. "Hi, Kenji."

"Hi," the medical student responded.

Ilana raised an eyebrow. "Who are you people? And…what is this thing? What is it doing in the flat?"

"PC Khan, Hallamshire Police," Yaz introduced herself. "Ilana, was it?"

The ginger straightened. "Yes, ma'am."

"Can you tell me the exact date and time right now?"

Ilana frowned, reaching in her bathrobe pocket, pulling out a mobile. "22 January 2019, 1:29 a.m." She tilted her head curiously. "Is that important, Constable?"

"Very much so."

Ilana pocketed the phone, yawning. "How were you able to find Hiromi? I tried getting a hold of her for days."

"I had to borrow a mobile," Hiromi told her. "My battery totally crapped out."

Ilana raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't recharge it?"

"No. I tried."

The ginger ran her fingers through her hair. "Just where the hell were you, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Ilana snorted. "Try me."

"Tokyo."

Ilana blinked, a stunned expression on her face. Ryan could tell that she was sceptical. "Tokyo?!" the ginger echoed. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No," Kenji told her. "She's not."

One look at the serious expressions on everyone's faces likely gave Ilana the hint. She folded her arms. "Where's Maria?"

"Amsterdam," Hiromi said softly.

"Well, why didn't you go get her? She's your _girlfriend,_ for crying out loud!"

Hiromi looked away, burying her face in the cat's fur. Ryan saw that she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. "K-Kanojo ga shinda," she whispered in Japanese.

"She's dead," Kenji translated, voice taut with anger.

Ilana's eyes widened. Tears started to fall down the ginger's face, though she made a visible attempt to keep it together. "Explain."

Yaz sighed. "From the looks of it, the same thing that spirited Hiromi to Japan had killed Maria. By the time we got to her, she was already dead." She put a hand on Ilana's shoulder. "We found her grave in Amsterdam. She lived a long life."

Ilana shook her head. "She was twenty-one."

"She died in her nineties," Ryan told her.

"That's impossible."

"Not if you were sent back in time," Oslo said quietly. "We had a similar case earlier this month involving some Danish tourists. As with this one, there was one person left to tell the tale. Whether that was coincidental or not, I couldn't tell you."

"It's likely that it was," Yaz interjected. "Rasmus Hansen hid in a men's lavatory for days to avoid the Angels. Hiromi was spirited away. There's a difference."

Ilana frowned. "Hold up. Angels?"

"We'll explain once we get into the flat," Kenji told her. "Imōto, can we use your sofa?"

"Yeah," Hiromi responded, "but what for?"

"We need to get Doctor-san somewhere comfortable. Since we can't take her to a hospital, a sofa will have to do."

Ilana folded her arms. "Why can't we take her to a hospital, whoever she is?"

"That's another thing we'll explain once we get inside." Kenji gently picked up the Doctor from the floor, carrying her bridal-style in his arms. "Can one of you get the door for me?"

Ryan nodded, opening the door for the medical student. He exited the ship behind them, walking into a common area smaller than the one in Yaz's flat. Ilana switched on the lights, and Kenji placed the Doctor on the sofa after taking her coat off. Ryan glanced down at the alien, worried. She looked as though she was sleeping peacefully, though he doubted that was truly the case.

"She's been through a lot," Graham remarked, noticing where Ryan was looking. "Rest will be good for her."

"I hope so."

Ilana sat on a chair, clearly confused. "All right, Kenji. You said you'd explain once we're inside. We're inside now. So, spill."

Kenji frowned. "You're not going to like any of this."

"That's not something I care about at the moment. Open your trap or get out of my flat. I've got an exam at noon."

"All right, sheesh." He sighed. "The short version is, what abducted Hiromi is apparently called a 'Weeping Angel'. It's a predator masquerading as a statue."

"How does it kill?"

"Normally, it sends people back in time, but sometimes it snaps their necks or rips out their brainstems," Yaz said grimly. "The Doctor would be able to explain it better, but she's not going to be waking up anytime soon."

"You mean her?" Ilana asked, pointing to the Doctor's unconscious form on the sofa. Yaz nodded. Ilana dropped her hand, frowning. "Why can't we take her to A&E? She definitely looks like she needs to see somebody."

Kenji and Ryan looked at each other. The look on the medical student's face said, _She's_ your _friend._ You _tell her._

"Thanks a lot," Ryan told him, before turning back to face Ilana. "She's an alien."

Ilana craned her neck down over the sofa. "She looks human enough."

"Well, she ain't human, that's for sure."

Ilana stood back up, straightening. "I'm not buying it."

Kenji removed the stethoscope from around his neck, wiping down the ear portions with an alcohol-infused wipe. "Listen here," he gestured to one spot on the Doctor's chest, "and here," gesturing to another.

Ilana put it on, listening to the Doctor's heartbeats in both areas. Her eyes widened, and she ran the stethoscope over the spots again.

"That's—" She looked up at them, a surprised look on her face. "That's impossible."

"For a human, yeah," Graham told her. "You believe us now, don't you?"

Ilana waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, she's got two hearts. Don't rub it in." She returned the stethoscope to Kenji, running a hand through her hair. "Now what?"

Kenji wiped down the ear portions again. "Well, I guess she's my responsibility now."

"Now hold on a sec—" Graham protested, but Kenji cut him off. "I'm the closest thing she has to a doctor at the moment! We need to do everything we can to save her and stop that Angel from doing any more damage. _That_ is our priority now, O'Brien-san."

Ryan sighed, putting a hand on Graham's shoulder. "Like it or not, he's right, Granddad."

"We'll keep an eye on her," Hiromi reassured them, still holding Jasper in her arms.

"What about you?" Ryan asked.

Hiromi blinked. "Life goes on, right? I've just gotta make do with what's been going on." However strong her words were, Ryan could hear her voice breaking.

"Let us know if you need anything," Yaz responded.

"I've just got one question," Graham piped up. "Where on Earth are we, anyway?"

"Sheffield City Centre," Ilana responded.

"Shouldn't we stay?" Ryan asked.

"I've got work tomorrow afternoon," Yaz told him. "And I'm sure you and Graham have your lives to get back to as well."

"She'll be fine," Hiromi reassured them. "You can trust us."

"I'm gonna call an Uber," Graham told him, gesturing to Kenji and Oslo. "Do you boys need a ride as well?"

"That would be nice, yeah," Oslo told him.

Graham turned to Ilana. "What's the address to this place?"

Ilana told him, and he booked the ride. He turned off his phone, turning towards the others. "We've got an Uber coming in a few minutes."

"For all five of us?" Kenji asked, surprised.

"Of course it's for all five of us!" Graham retorted. "Do you seriously think I'd leave any of you to walk out in the cold?"

Kenji blinked, bowing. "Of course not! Forgive me, O'Brien-san. I meant no disrespect."

"No worries," Graham told him. "And you can stop bowing now."

Kenji straightened. "Sorry. We were just in Japan, and the cultural customs are different there than in England."

"We've lived in Britain since we were kids, nīsan," Hiromi muttered. "You should know that by now."

"You can tell that to our parents _after_ you call them," Kenji said sternly. "And you _will_ call them before you go to bed. They've been worried sick."

Hiromi looked at him, slightly miffed. "Of course I planned on calling them, nīsan." Jasper meowed in protest, and Hiromi set him down on the floor.

"What about the TARDIS?" Ryan asked.

"I can't treat the Doctor without it," Kenji responded. "Besides, I doubt she likes being apart from it for too long."

"That's true," Graham responded. "But how do you know that?"

"I picked up a few skills during the first couple of years of med school," Kenji explained. "One of them was the ability to read people. And something I read from Doctor-san was that she is very much attached to her ship."

Ilana frowned. "Hang on—that police box is her spaceship?"

"I thought that would have been obvious by now," Oslo grumbled, earning a glare from the ginger.

"Either way," Yaz intervened, "that countdown is getting closer and closer to zero. I don't know if sleep is going to delay it or not, but in any case we should take precautions. We need people here at all times to keep an eye on her."

"We have classes," Ilana reminded the Constable, gesturing to herself and Hiromi.

"So do I," Kenji said.

"And I have work," Oslo muttered.

"Which means the only one that's gonna be here 24/7, besides the TARDIS, is the cat," Graham muttered.

"We'll figure something out," Hiromi said quickly.

Graham's phone buzzed. He looked down, checking it. "Our Uber's in the parking garage."

"Will she be okay?" Yaz asked worriedly. Ryan knew she was likely referring to the Doctor.

"Doctor-san is in good hands," Hiromi reassured her. "We won't let anything happen to her."

"Let's hope that remains the case," Oslo said darkly.

Kenji, however, seemed to be in a lighter mood. "See you soon!"

"Good night," Hiromi responded.

The five of them exited the flat, Kenji leading the way to the parking garage. Ryan frowned. "It feels weird, doing this sort of thing without the Doctor," he remarked. "She's usually the one who takes charge of things whenever there's something really dangerous going on."

"I guess it's going to be up to the three of us now," Yaz responded.

"Seven of us," Kenji interjected.

Yaz's uninjured eye narrowed. "I disagree," she said. "Ryan, Graham, and I have seen a lot more than you can imagine. Aliens, other planets, lots of things. The rest of you have less experience in this area. We'd be putting you lot at too great a risk."

"Given what we're dealing with, Yasmin-san, it would be better if there were more of us," Kenji countered. "Besides, it's not like we've been completely uninvolved up until now. It would do Doctor-san a big disservice if we stayed out of this."

"He's got a point, Yaz," Graham responded, following Kenji and Oslo into the parking garage. The two younger members of Team TARDIS followed suit, and they found their Uber waiting about twenty metres away.

"Good morning!" the driver acknowledged them. He looked to be somewhat older than Graham, white hair flowing in a style similar to Doc Brown's in _Back to the Future._ "You ain't off to the pub now, are ya?"

"Nope," Graham responded. "Just heading home."

The driver nodded, looking at them through the rearview mirror once everyone got in. "I see. Where will I be dropping you all off?"

"Park Hill is fine," Yaz responded. She turned to Oslo and Kenji. "I hope that's not too far away from you two."

"Nah, that's fine," Oslo responded. "I'm at Wybourn."

"Stocksbridge," Kenji added.

"Oh, other side of the city, then?" the driver asked.

"Yeah, that's right." Kenji frowned. "Will that cost extra?"

"Just a wee bit, yeah."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Graham reassured the medical student. "I can cover you."

"Are-are you sure, O'Brien-san?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Graham retorted.

Kenji bowed in his seat, which, to Ryan, looked more like leaning forward with a seat belt in the way. "Thank you!"

"It's my pleasure."

Kenji straightened back up, and the Uber driver proceeded to the route.

The ride was mostly a silent one, save for sounds of the radio, NavSat, and local traffic. Ryan glanced around, seeing that Oslo was playing some sort of game on his mobile and Kenji had put on some wireless earbuds. Yaz and Graham were in the row behind them, and the driver's small black-and-white dog was asleep in the front seat.

Inwardly, Ryan imagined that, if the Doctor had been with them, she'd be attempting to make small talk with everyone, even the dog. He'd never had the chance to meet Maria while she was still alive, but he had a feeling that the mood would probably be a bit lighter if everyone had made it back okay. Instead, the trip to Tokyo and Amsterdam resulted in one person dead, one traumatized, one possessed by a demon, and at least seven people in a state that was far from all right.

Also, one thing the Angel had said was starting to bother him even more: _"One false move, and all of you will suffer."_ The TARDIS had knocked out its pilot, so that problem was taken care of for the time being, but what about _after_ the Doctor woke up? What would happen then?

 _Get it together, Ryan,_ he told himself. _It's been a rough evening. You can deal with this after you get some sleep._

 _Yeah._ If _I get any sleep._

They arrived at Park Hill several minutes later. Graham paid their fare, and the extra few pounds for Kenji's stop, and everyone went their separate ways as the van drove off.

The walk home felt longer than usual, in Ryan's opinion. It was mostly silent, as there wasn't much to talk about. Graham and Ryan each went into their own separate rooms after entering the house, silent, not bidding each other "good night" because they both likely knew that this night had been far from good. Ryan shut the door, collapsing onto his bed, exhaustion kicking in.

Sleep would not come for another hour-and-a-half.


	20. Chapter 20

OBSIDIAN IX, 2257 CE

It had only been just over a month since the TARDIS crew's misadventures began on Obsidian IX, and things were not seeming to get any better. The Obsidinites were beginning to run out of manpower and were now down to just over 5000 soldiers. The Doctor had asked Erida what the number of troops had been at the start of the war, and the medical technician had responded that it had been somewhere just over ten billion.

 _Twenty years. Nine billion plus dead, and that didn't even factor in civilians. This is what a long-term war against the Daleks looks like._

 _And it looks sickening._

To the Doctor, this was a nightmare he didn't think he'd have the strength to stomach should he experience something like it again in the future.

"I'm going to have a cigar," Z-1 told him. "Would you care to join me?"

"Sorry. I don't smoke," the Doctor responded.

Z-1 threw up its hands. "Organics. Always having something internal to worry about."

"Just try not to blow up anything this time," the Doctor hollered as the android walked out of the research lab, recalling an incident the previous day where Z-1 had been caught smoking in the laboratory and had accidentally ignited a hydrogen canister.

The android flipped its middle digit in response as the doors closed.

The Doctor sighed, shaking his head. "Droids." He turned…

…and suddenly wished he hadn't.

The blonde woman's psychic projection was back, crouched down on the ground. The hood was up on her light blue trenchcoat. It looked stronger than previous times, as it appeared somewhat less ghostlike. Encircling her were faint images of Weeping Angels.

Except, as he'd heard before from this person, those images were actually the real thing.

The Doctor stood unblinkingly, uncertain as to how he should react. The woman noticed him, motioning for him to exit the room. The Doctor hesitated, but her gestures became more insistent. He had no choice.

He fled.

The Doctor had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing on his mind was the need to keep running.

"Doctor?"

The Time Lord paused, seeing Benton and Lethbridge-Stewart nearby. A glance around at his surroundings told him that he was in a hangar on the other side of the building.

"Ah, good," he responded, catching his breath. "Did you happen to see a ghostly blonde woman on your way over here?"

"Not since a few hours ago," the Sergeant responded. "There's something we want to talk to you about."

"Is it related to this issue?"

"Yes, actually," Lethbridge-Stewart responded, exchanging a glance with Benton.

* * *

 _No need to panic._

 _Breathe._

 _Just. Breathe._

The Doctor looked at Benton, concerned. "And you're certain she said twenty-first century?"

Benton nodded.

"Did she say anything else?"

"I tried asking, but she refused to divulge much," Benton said. "I did what you said for getting into contact with her, but we lost her in the middle of the conversation." The Sergeant raised an eyebrow. "Who is this mysterious woman, anyway?"

The Doctor shrugged. "No idea. If we had even an inkling of who she was, it wouldn't be so mysterious, now, would it?"

"I guess not, sir."

Lethbridge-Stewart put his cap back on. "How long has it been since you made contact?"

"About half an hour, sir."

The Doctor exchanged a glance with the Brigadier. Benton straightened. "Is there something wrong, Brigadier?"

"Not that I can think of," Lethbridge-Stewart responded. "Do you know if Yates has encountered this woman yet?"

"I don't think he has, sir," Benton admitted. "I can go check in with him if you want me to."

The Brigadier nodded. "Do that, Sergeant, and have the both of you report back here."

"Yes, sir!" The Sergeant exited the briefing area, leaving the Doctor and the Brigadier alone. The Time Lord sighed. "This isn't good."

"I agree," the Brigadier remarked. "Things are getting too weird around here for this to be a normal battlefield. Just what is so special about this star system, anyway, for the Daleks to be stuck in a war for two decades?"

"Beats me," the Doctor said, leaning back against a crate. "It _never_ takes the Daleks this long to get anything. And I doubt even the Obsidinites are strong enough to withstand them. Whatever they want, it's something big." He groaned. "It was never my intention to get you involved in something like this."

"I know," the Brigadier said. "You've been apologizing to us about it for the past week."

The Doctor frowned, chastened.

"We need to come up with a plan for how to get out of this alive," Lethbridge-Stewart continued.

"We also need to figure out how that woman fits into all of this," the Doctor pointed out. "Who is she? What is she? And, more importantly, how does she know who we all are? As far as I know, none of us have met anyone even _remotely_ like her."

"What makes you so worried, Doctor?"

The Doctor leaned backwards, running a hand through his hair. "She's very powerful, whoever she is. Powerful enough to be psychically projecting herself here from the twenty-first century. If those Angels attempt to piggyback on that signal, then those Daleks will be the least of our worries."

The Brigadier nodded, sighing. "Should we trust her? I get that she's right about the fact that we're in danger, but what makes you think she isn't a threat to us as well?"

 _Now that's a good question._ "Without more information about her, I'd err on the side of caution," the Doctor responded after a moment.

"Agreed." The Brigadier stood, stretching. "So. Now what?"

* * *

Jo walked into the war room, finding Matri leaning over a desk. She paused, wondering if he was busy.

"Do you need something, Grant?" the General asked, looking up.

Jo straightened. "Just a few things to clear up, if you don't mind." _Because there are some things bothering me about this place that I do not understand._

"So long as it's not classified, I can answer you," the General responded.

Jo blinked. "What's so important about this star system, anyway? It never takes the Daleks this long to do _anything,_ based on what the Doctor and I have experienced of them. Why is it different here? Why now?"

Matri paused, sighing. He looked up, and Jo saw weariness written on the old man's face. "So no one's ever told you."

Jo's eyes narrowed. "Told us what?"

Matri blinked. "The story. The story of the War."

Jo shook her head, confused. "Sorry. No."

The General sighed. "Take a seat, Miss Grant."

Jo obliged, sitting at the chair in front of his desk.

Matri took the seat on the other side, looking at her intently.

"Seven centuries ago, in the year 1517, the Weeping Angels came to this star system to feed. They were in an extremely dangerous state of mind, and their motives, to this day, remain unknown to us. My people fought them, but ninety percent of our species was wiped out. Those who were left buried the Lonely Assassins underground, underneath where this base is now, actually, making sure to line the cavern with reflective surfaces to ensure that the quantum lock remained. A lot of us fled to Obsidian one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and thirteen as refugees; my grandmother among them, when she was barely younger than Scout Addeis. Very few remained here—only soldiers, to guard the spot where the Angels are buried. This base was built ten years ago, after the first eight planets were lost to the Daleks. We've been hearing strange whispers ever since, and sometimes we've had people go insane or be killed after hearing the voices after a period of time. None of the medical technicians or their androids have been able to figure out the cause."

"Do you think it could be the Angels?" Jo asked.

"It's…likely," Matri admitted. "We didn't think to check and see if the construction had inadvertently broken the quantum lock, considering those creatures had been buried sixty metres underground."

Jo frowned. "But that still doesn't explain how the Daleks fit into all of this."

"Obsidian Thirteen is the galaxy's major financial hub," Matri explained. "If that planet falls, the entire galactic economy tanks. That's why we've been fighting so hard here for the past two decades. Not just for our people, but for the entire galaxy. We are the Vanguard now. Most of the Obsidinite military has been deployed to this planet in an effort to stall the Daleks. We've had assistance from other nearby star systems to protect the Thirteenth Planet, but we have to stop the Daleks here and now."

"But isn't this the ninth planet, though?" Jo queried.

"Yes," Matri responded. "But Obsidian Ten and Eleven are gas giants, and their moons, like Obsidian Twelve, are uninhabited save for wildlife. And the Twelfth Planet is designated as Level I status by the Shadow Proclamation, so it is illegal for any race to invade, even the Daleks. The most people have really done there is research a local biological phenomenon known as the Fjords of Light."

"The Fjords of Light?" Jo echoed, curious.

"Fjords encompassing most of the planet's continental landmasses. There is very little daylight on Obsidian Twelve due to its distance from the sun, so its moons act as luminary bodies instead. Something in the water acts as a bioluminescent agent, lighting up the fjords with starlight. It is quite beautiful, from what I have heard from various scientists, but I have not personally witnessed this phenomenon."

"Sounds fascinating," Jo said sincerely. _But I wish we could have known about this earlier. It would have likely saved us a lot of grief._

"It is," Matri agreed. "It would be better if we could live long enough for this war to end and visit it. But that doesn't look likely."

"Look on the bright side," Jo responded, earning herself a cynical look from the General. "At least we're not going down without a fight."

Matri put his head in his hands. "With all due respect, Miss Grant, I do not see how that is a bright side." He looked up at her, dropping his hands back on the desk. "Are you familiar with the concept of unrealistic optimism?"

"Somewhat," she admitted. "Psychology isn't my field of study, sir."

"Do your best to learn some, then," he advised sternly. "It'll help you in the future." He straightened. "Unrealistic optimism is a cognitive bias that causes one to believe that they, and those around them, will be less likely to experience a negative event. For example, our defeat in this war. While there is no way in hell we are surrendering to the Daleks, the fact that we also have Weeping Angels in the area seriously complicates things. We have very little manpower left. We are outnumbered and outgunned. We cannot retreat."

Jo frowned, gears turning in her mind. "There has to be a way."

"As much as I'd like to agree with you, Miss Grant, there isn't one," Matri retorted, resigned. "We are losing. It is only a matter of days before we are annihilated. The question is, whether it will be by the Daleks or by the Angels. Or both. Who knows if we'll even be able to flee the system to begin with."

"There has to be some hope left," Jo said confidently.

Matri's tail lashed. "I disagree."

Jo put her hands on her hips. "With all due respect, General, being pessimistic about the situation isn't going to get us anywhere."

"But there is also the need to accept the inevitable, Miss Grant," Matri pointed out. "If we run, we die. If we don't run, we die. Either way, this is a no-win scenario."

"So, what?" Jo retorted. "Are you just going to give up like this?!"

Matri stood, eyes blazing. "We are _not_ giving up! Even if all options point to a suicide mission right now, we are still going to fight."

"I didn't mean any offense," Jo said cautiously.

"It didn't come off as such. But if we don't think realistically about the conflict at hand, we are going to fail. This is what everyone must understand, whether they want to or not."


End file.
